


Blood of the Enemy, Forcibly Taken

by Zakaira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, M/M, Mild Smut, Mpreg, Not Epilogue Compliant, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 94,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zakaira/pseuds/Zakaira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war ends Harry begins his work as an Auror and is charged with watching Draco. Draco was impregnated by Voldemort as punishment for letting Harry go from Malfoy Manor. Only Voldemort’s body was created in a ritual from components from 3 people and the paternity test gives surprising results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            Harry hadn’t even had a chance after the war to fully catch up on his sleep before Kingsley showed up at the Burrow and asked Harry, Hermione, and Ron to be Aurors. There was a congratulations on ending the war and a bit of mourning over the dead first, but then Kingsley had just come right out and asked them all to work with Kingsley and the Aurors. They would be tracking down the remaining Death Eaters and restoring peace to the wizarding world and no NEWTs were necessary. Hermione had refused right away; she wanted to spend her summer helping to rebuild Hogwarts and then go back and finish her NEWTs. Ron said he’d absolutely be an Auror, he just needed some time before he could start, because he was needed at home; someone had to keep George company and help out at the joke shop while everyone else worked on Fred’s funeral. Harry had said yes and shown up to work the next day.

            Typically Aurors are given months of intensive training, before they were put on the streets, so that they would know the correct protocol and not endanger any lives. Harry didn’t get that; they handed him a thick instruction manual and told him to peruse it at his own convenience until they got enough recruits to start a training course. His lack of training was probably why he didn’t get any of the interesting hands on in the field assignments. He was probably the most powerful wizard in the Auror corps and he was definitely the only one who had defeated Voldemort, but he was still kept out of the action.

            A lot of what Harry did was paperwork and tying up loose ends. He was a valuable resource of information on Voldemort and the Death Eaters, so the monotony of paperwork was always broken up by other more senior Aurors coming over and asking for advice or information. And paperwork didn’t just create itself, so about a third of Harry’s time was spent in various interrogation rooms questioning informants and captured Death Eaters for information. But once he got the information he had to record it and check the validity of each and every minute facet of each statement, before passing along the useful information to the designated parties, and all of that required paperwork.

            Harry was sick of paperwork, so when Head Auror Robards called Harry into his office, Harry was eager for the possibility of a new assignment.

            “Yes Auror Robards? You have something new for me?” Harry asked. He still had facts to check on the interview he’d done yesterday, but he didn’t think there was a single shred of truth in Rodolphus Lestrange’s statement and was eager for something else to work on; something important.

            “Yes, sit down Harry, I’ve something important to tell you,” Robards said.

            “Alright,” Harry said, sitting down in the chair opposite Robards.

            “We’ve captured the Malfoys; all three of them.”

            “That’s great sir! Where were they?” Harry hoped Lucius Malfoy didn’t get let off the hook this time around.

            “They were in Malfoy Manor attempting to brew an abortion potion. They said it was for Draco Malfoy and that he was in need of medical treatment, but they surrendered quietly once our side agreed to take him to St. Mungo’s.”

            “Sir, how can an abortion potion be for a wizard?”

            “Most pureblood wizards are capable of getting pregnant and giving birth. The healers did confirm that Draco Malfoy is indeed pregnant.”

            “I saw him during the final battle and he didn’t look pregnant.”

            “He’s only a month or so along they tell me.”

            “Oh…”

            “Yes, oh indeed, but this story just gets stranger and more unbelievable. The Malfoys said that Draco was impregnated by Voldemort as a punishment for the family after your escape from Malfoy Manor. But Voldemort’s original body was destroyed by you sixteen years ago, so He shouldn’t have been able to get anyone pregnant. As you have informed us, His body was made during a ritual from the bones of His father, the flesh of Peter Pettigrew, and your blood. It’s only natural that the father should be one of those three.”

            “Sir, do the healers have a way of determining which of us it is?” Harry asked. At this point he didn’t know whether Draco had consented or been raped, but there was something darkly humorous about Draco being impregnated by Voldemort’s muggle father or even the bumbling lumpy Peter Pettigrew. Harry just hoped the baby didn’t turn out to be his and he shuddered at the thought.

            “They do. There is a spell that determines paternity and they already conducted it. You’re the other father Harry.”

            Harry’s jaw dropped and he was speechless. Robards let the news sink in for several minutes before speaking again. “I’d like you to go to St. Mungo’s and interview him; see if you can get him to tell you as much about what happened as he knows. This is highly unusual, but since he’s pregnant with your baby and with his questionable guilt, I will allow Draco Malfoy to be released into your custody, if you’re willing to take responsibility for him. You’d have to watch him constantly and he couldn’t be left alone. Or you could leave him in St. Mungo’s until we can figure out what to do with him.”

            “I thought he wanted the abortion potion?”

            “That was when he thought he was carrying Voldemort’s child. I don’t know what’s going on now, but perhaps the two of you can sort that out.”

            “Alright. I’ll go talk to him, but I haven’t decided if I’m taking him home with me.” There was no way Harry was taking Malfoy to the Burrow, so if it came down to it, he’d take Malfoy to Grimmauld Place.

            “Remember to write down everything he tells you and be careful what you do and say around him, because this could turn into quite the story in the papers and we don’t want it blowing up in our faces.”

            “I’ll try sir.” Harry didn’t know if he’d succeed and wished he’d gotten to take the course on public relations before being sent on this assignment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming next chapter will be Harry’s visit with Draco in St. Mungo’s. New chapter will be posted about once a week.
> 
> P.s. For those who leave flames, please make them detailed enough that I can figure out what you are talking about. Just writing that it’s awful doesn’t help; I need to know what exactly is awful and why.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter!

            Harry warily approached the open door to the room that Draco Malfoy was supposed to be in, according to the witch at the reception desk. This was probably the right room, because he recognized the Auror standing guard at the open door; it was Auror Taylor, who hadn’t been on the job much longer than Harry and so was often given assignments like guard duty. Harry looked in and saw a pale figure sitting on the bed, with his arms wrapped around his knees and his face buried in his lap. The head of silvery blond hair wasn’t slicked back like it normally was, but it was a good indication that this was Malfoy.

            Auror Taylor at the door nodded to Harry, indicating that Harry could go in, but Harry wanted a few moments more. Harry’s gaze was transfixed by the sight of Malfoy on the bed and he needed to compose his thoughts and figure out what to say. There was just something off about Malfoy; his boyhood rival looked strangely vulnerable sitting on the bed like that. Malfoy’s shoulders trembled slightly and Harry heard a soft snuffling noise; was Malfoy crying? This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

            Harry felt like he was eavesdropping and seeing something he shouldn’t. He didn’t think Malfoy had even noticed him yet, so he decided to make his presence known. He knocked on the open door, to announce his arrival, and then walked in and took the seat next to the bed.

            Draco’s face looked up and Harry saw tear tracks down Malfoy’s face for a moment, before Malfoy turned away from Harry, surreptitiously wiping his face. It took Draco half a minute to compose himself and then he turned back to Harry and said, “They’ve got Mother in a holding cell at the Ministry. She didn’t even do anything, you can attest to that yourself Potter. You have to get her out.”

            “How about I see what I can do for your mum after you answer some questions for me,” Harry replied. Even if they didn’t charge Narcissa Malfoy with anything, the other Aurors would still have to take her statement.

            “My mother saved your life in the Forbidden Forest. How about you return the favor and get her released and _then_ I’ll answer your questions.”

            “Your mother will have to be interviewed, even if she was only a witness.”

            “They arrested all three of us Potter; they weren’t exactly treating her as a witness, unless the Ministry is now in the habit of arresting all their witnesses. Or is this some sort of special treatment, on account of Mother being married to my father?”

            “Alright, I’ll send word that your mother isn’t to be charged with anything and that they need to let her go after interviewing her.”

            “And six months from now they’ll inform you that the owl was lost and they accidentally forgot about Mother, after sending her to Azkaban with Father without bothering to give either a proper trial.”

            “Alright fine, I’ll go in person, but when I get back you better answer my questions truthfully.” Harry was quickly growing frustrated with Malfoy. Harry knew that Narcissa Malfoy was innocent, but he just wanted to do his job and get on with the interview; he wanted to find out what happened, but now he was going to have to go right back to the Ministry.

            “Yes, fine Potter, deal. Just go already,” Draco said.

            Harry checked that the guard was still on the door and seeing that the guard was, he apparated back to the Ministry. He found Narcissa Malfoy in an interrogation room with a pair of Aurors who were questioning her. He beckoned one of them, Auror Walker, out of the room. Once he and Auror Walker were out of hearing range of Narcissa, he explained to Auror Walker that Narcissa Malfoy was innocent of all wrong doing and had saved his life.

            “I want her released when you’re done questioning her and I don’t want her charged with anything,” Harry said.

            “And what does Robards want?” Auror Walker asked.

            “I haven’t talked to him,” Harry conceded.

            “Well generally we like to get the boss’ approval before we let criminals walk,” Auror Walker replied.

            Harry sighed and conceded defeat; this was yet another hurdle to jump over before he could accomplish his goal and find out what happened to Malfoy. He went back to Auror Robards’ office and set about convincing his boss to let Narcissa go, reiterating that she hadn’t actually done anything wrong and that she had saved Harry’s life during the final battle. It was a bothersome delay, but Harry did eventually convince the head Auror that he was right that Narcissa should be set free. Robards went in person to deliver the news to Walker and Harry apparated back to St. Mungo’s. At least Harry had managed to get his apparition license his first day on the job or this day would’ve taken forever.

            Draco was right where Harry left him, on the bed in the room guarded by Auror Taylor.

            “Alright, your mum’s off the hook and they’re gonna release her as soon as they finish her interview,” Harry said.

            “Thank you Potter. Can we go home now?” Malfoy asked.

            “No, you can’t go back to Malfoy Manor and you agreed to answer my questions now.”

            “The healers said I could go when you got here; I don’t fancy the audience.” Malfoy’s eyes flickered up to Auror Taylor and then back to Harry. Malfoy’s eyes looked pleading and seemed to convey that the matter they were to discuss was personal and that he wasn’t comfortable divulging this information in front of strangers. Harry didn’t think Malfoy would be any more comfortable divulging this information to him either.

            “My boss says he’ll release you into my custody and that I can take you home to my house if I’d like. You won’t be free to go and you can’t go back to Malfoy Manor.”

            “Fine; anywhere’s better than here. Where do you live?”

            “The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. It was my godfather’s, but it was a mess last time I was there back in September and I’m sure it’s a disaster now.” Harry hoped that this bit of detail would dissuade Malfoy from taking him up on the offer, because he didn’t want to be responsible of babysitting Malfoy permanently, even if Malfoy was pregnant with his kid.

            Draco broke eye contact and looked down before replying, “Like I said; I’d go just about anywhere to get out of here. I don’t much care for people looking at me like a freak.”

            “Alright, let me get you out of here,” Harry said, actually starting to feel sorry for Malfoy.

            Harry went to talk to Malfoy’s healer about Malfoy’s release. While Harry was there, the healer confirmed that the parentage spell listed Harry and Draco as the parents of the baby. Harry wanted to see it for himself, just to make sure, and the healer agreed. Harry couldn’t believe his eyes, but his name was there right next to Malfoy’s name and the baby was indeed Harry’s. Harry probably should’ve asked that healer how male pregnancies are even possible, but he was too shocked to do so. Instead he concentrated on getting Malfoy checked out of the hospital.

            It took half an hour, but eventually Harry got Malfoy released, gave Malfoy the secret to Grimmauld Place, and took Malfoy home with him via a side-along apparition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Draco will tell Harry what happened…  
> Please review!


	3. Chapter3

            Grimmauld Place was just as bad as Harry thought it would be. Moody’s Dumbledore trap greeted them and perhaps Harry should’ve warned Malfoy about it, because Malfoy screeched like a girl and started shaking. That set off Sirius’ mum’s portrait screaming, “Mudbloods, blood traitors, and half breeds soiling the house of my father!”

            To make matters worse, Kreacher appeared and flung himself at Harry’s feet. Kreacher seemed to be alternating between thankful sobs that his master had returned and accusing Harry of abandoning Kreacher.

            While Harry was distracted by Kreacher, Malfoy started running. Harry thought for a moment that Malfoy was trying to escape, but the idiot didn’t run out the front door. Instead Malfoy ran to the painting and uncovered it, asking, “Auntie Black? Is that you?”

            “Yes, who’s there? Draco Malfoy! Thank goodness you’ve come at last. You have absolutely no idea how awful it’s been here the last few years! My good for nothing blood traitor excuse for a _son_ let the filth in!”

            Harry extracted himself from Kreacher, ordered the elf to cook supper, and went after Malfoy. “Sorry to break up the family reunion, but we’re going upstairs,” Harry said, before dragging Malfoy upstairs with him. The last thing Harry needed was Malfoy making friends with Sirius’ mum’s portrait.

            Harry sat Draco down on the sofa in the drawing room and pulled out a quill and parchment. “Alright, I’ve kept up my end of the deal, now it’s time you start talking,” Harry said.

            “What do you want to know?”

            “How did you get pregnant?”

            “The Dark Lord said it was my punishment for letting you escape from the Manor. He knew that I’d known it was you and I didn’t summon Him. He said He was punishing my father and mother too, because they let you escape from our home. He said He was tired of dealing with imbeciles and that the only way he was going to get a competent second in command was to make one.”

            Harry wrote that down and when Malfoy didn’t elaborate Harry asked, “And how exactly did that happen? Did you consent?”

            Malfoy’s jaw dropped down to his chest and his eyes were wide open in a mixture of shock and horror. “You think I _let_ this happen to me?” Malfoy asked.

            “I don’t know; that’s why I’m asking. I assume you consider it an honor or something.”

            “No, I don’t consider it an honor Potter, to watch my father crucio’ed in front of me, hearing him scream for ages, and then be crucio’ed myself, before being stunned and woken up sometime later violated and impregnated with what I believed was an abomination! I was trying to get it out of me before they told me it was yours! I never would’ve thought I’d be relieved to be told I was pregnant with _your_ baby, but I think that was just about the best news it could’ve been.”

            “So you weren’t conscious for the actual act?” Harry’s opinion of Malfoy was starting to grow now that he thought Malfoy hadn’t consented.

            “Correct.”

            “He raped you then?”

            “I think he probably considered that beneath him. I highly doubt he touched me.”

            Harry was a bit confused by Malfoy’s statement, because he didn’t know how it was possible for Voldemort to have gotten Malfoy pregnant without touching Malfoy. “Alright, why don’t you tell me what evidence, if any, you had that he’d done anything to you after he stunned you?”

            “My arse stung and there was semen in my knickers. Later I passed more semen into the toilet. It was a lot. I mean a lot, a lot. Like not physically possible for one go, a lot. I think he must’ve had some spell that deposited a shit-ton of the stuff directly into my body.”

            “Was there blood?”

            “No.”

            Somehow the idea that Voldemort used a spell and didn’t even bother to rape Malfoy made this whole situation sound even more wrong to Harry. Maybe that was a bit callous towards Malfoy on Harry’s part. It wasn’t like Harry thought Malfoy deserved to be raped by Voldemort, because no one deserved that, but Malfoy had been a prick towards Harry and his friends for so many years that Harry had trouble feeling sympathetic towards Malfoy. “Did you have any bruises or injuries? Even healed injuries?”

            “Just some scrapes on my knees from when I fell during the crucio.”

            “When did you find out you were, you know?”

            “A couple weeks later when I was called before the Dark Lord for a pregnancy test. It was positive.”

            “What did he say?”

            “He said He was pleased that the next Malfoy heir was also to be His heir. Aunt Bella was upset He hadn’t chosen her, but that was her punishment for her role in your escape. Plus He said He needed her and couldn’t afford for her to be out of commission. He said I was to go back to school for the remainder of the term and avoid any physical confrontations. He said,” Malfoy paused, gulped, and then continued, “that I was expected to stay home at the Manor and raise His kid. He said that if I did a good job, He’d let me have the next one too.”

            “But you didn’t want that, did you?”

            “No, I most certainly didn’t. I was trying to brew the abortion potion at Hogwarts in secret, but then you barged in. When we got home, we started brewing it at the Manor too, but then the Aurors barged in.”

            “Did they give you any at St. Mungo’s?”

            “No. They insisted on checking whose it was first and then when I found out it wasn’t His…” Malfoy trailed off and didn’t complete that sentence.

            “When you found out it was mine, didn’t you still want to get rid of it?” Harry asked hopefully. If Malfoy had an abortion, Harry could pretend like this whole sordid affair hadn’t happened. He could send Malfoy off to a holding cell and let the Wizengamot figure out what to do with Malfoy and he wouldn’t have to babysit the git.

            Malfoy shrugged. “Do you want me too?”

            “It’d certainly make things easier.”

            “Excuse me Potter, I didn’t mean to make your life complicated,” Draco said with a sneer.

            “Malfoy, you hate me. You can’t really want to have my child.”

            “I don’t know what I want. I need to think about it.”

            “Alright. Well if you’re going to be staying a while, I suppose we better see about getting one of the bedrooms set up for you,” Harry conceded. He still hoped Malfoy would get the abortion, but it did seem reasonable to give Malfoy some time to think and process this news before going through with it.

            Draco nodded, so Harry went and had a look through all of the bedrooms. There were the two bedrooms on the third floor, including Sirius’ old room in which Harry had spent a good deal of his nights back when he had stayed here during the horcrux hunt. But Harry didn’t want to clear out Regulus’ old room and he didn’t want to sleep on the third floor if Draco was down on the second floor. There were three bedrooms on the second floor and they were all a mess. There were candy wrappers, potion debris, and sundry joke related objects in Fred and George’s old room, books all over the place in Hermione’s old room, and a half eaten moldy cheese sandwich in Ron’s old room.

            Harry decided he wanted Fred and George’s old room for himself. He considered putting Draco in Ron’s room, but it smelled of old gym shorts so badly that he didn’t think the smell would ever come out. Hermione’s room was really the least unpleasant room, even if it was full of books and Ginny had put up a poster of kittens and pink hearts on the wall.

            “Alright, this one’s yours,” Harry informed Malfoy.

            “Just because I’m queer doesn’t mean I want the room with kitties and hearts Potter. Why can’t I have the room with all of the candy wrappers on the floor?” Malfoy asked.

            “Because that one’s mine,” Harry answered.

            “Fine, I guess this is better than the smelly room. I shudder to think what you’ve been doing in there,” Malfoy replied.

            “That room was Ron’s. I’ve no idea what he did to make it smell that bad.”

            Harry set about fixing up the room a bit, clearing out most of the books to make room for Malfoy. Malfoy picked up books and stacked them on top of the dresser. Then Malfoy opened the top drawer and pulled out a petite lacy bra, holding it up for Harry to see. “These aren’t really my style Potter; I’ll require you to pick up some of my things from the Manor.”

            “Those are Hermione’s.”

            “Ach!” Malfoy cried, flinging the bra back into the drawer.

            Harry rolled his eyes and went back to work on the books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think Harry and Draco's initial reactions should be? Have the abortion? Not have the abortion? Decide to have the abortion and then back out when he gets to the clinic?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Your reviews are greatly appreciated :)

            Later, once Malfoy was set up in Hermione’s old room, Harry wrote a letter to Ron and Ginny explaining what was going on. Not the part about Malfoy being pregnant with Harry’s kid, but the part about Robards assigning Harry to babysit Malfoy for the time being and that Harry wouldn’t be back to the Burrow. He thought of Hedwig when he finished, wishing he still had his owl, but not wanting to get a new one to replace her. He ended up calling Kreacher and ordering Kreacher to deliver the letter. When Kreacher returned, he sent Kreacher off again to Malfoy Manor to get some clothes for Malfoy.

            That night Harry lay awake trying to think how he was going to explain this to Ginny. His romance with Ginny had been hot and heavy for like one day after the war and then had fizzled out with an argument the very next day. Well technically he’d slept for almost a solid day first, so it was the second day after the war that HHhe let her suck him off a few brilliant times and he’d fingered her a few times in return. But the third night after the war she had wanted to shag, he had wanted to wait, and the argument had blown way out of proportion. She hadn’t been pleased when he’d gone to work either, but they were still together and he was hoping they could repair the relationship.

            Voldemort knocking Malfoy up with Harry’s baby couldn’t possibly be Harry’s fault, but Harry just knew Ginny would be upset about this. He hoped for their relationship’s sake that he never had to tell her, which would be the case if Malfoy would decide to go through with the abortion soon. Given that Malfoy had already tried to get the abortion potion three times and Malfoy wasn’t even impregnated a full two months ago, Harry thought the odds were pretty good that Malfoy would abort within the week. Besides, Malfoy hated Harry and couldn’t possibly want to have Harry’s baby.

            Harry tossed and turned, but couldn’t sleep. He kept wondering how many more people Voldemort had knocked up in the three years Harry’s blood had run in Voldemort’s veins. There could be a whole army of two year old red eyed Potter babies out there born to Death Eaters. And it didn’t even have to be female Death Eaters, because somehow the males, like Malfoy, could get pregnant. Harry was going to have to figure out how that was even possible and soon. At the very least, he needed to make certain there weren’t other pregnant Death Eaters out there. If there were, it would be abortion potions for the lot of them if he had his way.

            Harry had never thought much about abortion before and whether he was for or against it. He found himself contemplating the subject now. If ever there was a situation when abortion would be the right thing to do, it was this one. Any pregnancy conceived against both parties’ wills by Voldemort with a spell, was not one that he felt should go forward. Maybe if Malfoy was further along the baby would seem more real to Harry and he might think it had a right to live, but not yet. It was still incredibly early in the pregnancy. He didn’t know much about embryology, but he didn’t think it was possible that the thing inside of Malfoy could much resemble a baby at all.

            Right now Malfoy’s baby was just an unwanted parasite making Harry’s life difficult. A burden complicating Harry’s relationship with Ginny and making him babysit his boyhood rival. Merlin, Harry hated Malfoy and Malfoy was the last person in this world he wanted to share a child with. If it would have been Ginny who was pregnant, he would’ve been happy. If it was any of his friends and he really didn’t have a choice in the matter, he thought he could make it work. If it was even someone he barely knew or didn’t know at all…well even that would be better than it being Malfoy.

            Maybe Malfoy wasn’t exactly the worse possible choice; Harry had to admit Bellatrix being pregnant with his baby was a far more frightening possibility. Malfoy was probably better than any of the other Death Eaters, as far as Death Eaters went. If it had to be a Death Eater, then maybe Harry should be happy that it was Malfoy. But Harry wasn’t happy that it was Malfoy and couldn’t even find it in himself to be grateful it wasn’t someone worse.

            Harry was still awake with his thoughts at three am when he heard a scream from Malfoy’s room. Harry rushed across the hall and flung open Malfoy’s door to see Malfoy springing up in bed panting and dripping in sweat.

            “What happened?” Harry asked.

            “Nightmare,” Malfoy answered.

            “Oh.” Harry looked at Malfoy and tried to decide what to do.

            If this had been Ron, Harry would sit next to Ron and pat Ron on the back. Maybe Harry would say something nice and then go back to sleep, but this was Malfoy and Harry didn’t know how to handle that. He wanted to turn his back, close the door, and walk away, but Malfoy’s face was pale, Malfoy was still breathing rapidly, and Malfoy’s eyes were wide with fear. It was like Malfoy was still scared even though Malfoy was now awake. After a few minutes of silence filled by the labored sounds of Malfoy’s breathing, Harry asked, “Are you gonna be alright?”

            Malfoy nodded and reached for a wand that wasn’t there from the nightstand and Harry saw Malfoy’s hand tremble. Harry still had Malfoy’s wand, not having given it back yet.

            “Can I get you something?” Harry asked.

            “Water,” Malfoy said.

            Harry summoned a glass and then filled it with water, before handing it to Malfoy. Malfoy took it and drank half of it in a few large gulps, before setting it on the nightstand. “Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked, hoping that the answer was no.

            “Vince and Fiendfyre,” Malfoy replied. “I couldn’t save him.”

            “Look, it’s not your fault Crabbe set off that spell. He almost killed all of us.”

            “Yeah, I know, but it was my idea to go after you. I just wanted my wand back. I told Vince and Greg we were going to capture you and take you to the Dark Lord, but all I really wanted was to get my wand and then I would’ve let you escape.” Malfoy yawned on the word escape and his eyes closed with fatigue.

            “You should go back to sleep,” Harry said.

            Malfoy nodded and lay back down; he was back to sleep a few minutes later.

            Harry went back to his room and lay down in his bed. He began to wonder just how long this situation would last. He didn’t want to be playing nursemaid to Draco bloody Malfoy of all people. Sure he felt bad for Malfoy, but mostly he just wanted Malfoy to take the abortion potion and let the Ministry deal with the git. Malfoy could have his nightmares in a holding cell and be someone else’s problem. Harry finally went to sleep thinking that Malfoy having Harry’s baby was Harry’s living nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all pretty much agreed with regards to Malfoy and abortion: Harry’s baby is Malfoy’s get out of Azkaban free card and his key to regaining influence after the war. There was more disagreement on Harry, but right now I think Harry’s too stuck in his own problems with Ginny to be anything but hostile towards Malfoy and the baby. Later, I think his feelings towards the baby will change.


	5. Chapter 5

            The next day Harry took Malfoy into work with him and put together his report on how Voldemort had gotten Malfoy pregnant. While Harry worked, Malfoy read a book that had come from Hermione’s room. Then they took a break for tea, before Harry took Malfoy into one of the interview rooms and started questioning Malfoy about all of the other Death Eater things Malfoy had seen. Who was a Death Eater and who was just imperiused? Who had killed and who had tortured? Who had used which of the unforgivables and when? Who was at which battle?

            They had a break for lunch and another break in the afternoon, but they were in that interview room going over the facts of the war from Malfoy’s point of view for the rest of the day. The rest of that week followed the same pattern, with Harry writing up reports of what Malfoy told him and Malfoy telling him more details for yet another report. Malfoy was a good sport and seemed to be answering all of Harry’s questions honestly. The only questions Malfoy wouldn’t answer were about Lucius. Anytime Lucius did something decent, like when Lucius had begged Voldemort to impregnate Lucius instead of Draco, Malfoy would mention it, but which crimes Lucius was there to witness or involved in, Malfoy wouldn’t say.

            After a week and a half, Harry realized that he’d gotten all he could out of Malfoy. Harry was going to continue bringing Malfoy into work with him to watch Malfoy, but then on Thursday of the second week Robards informed him of a spell he could use with Malfoy. It would bind Malfoy to the house, so that Malfoy couldn’t leave while Harry was away. After that Harry could go to work and leave Malfoy at home alone and not have to worry. Only the binder could undo it, so even if he left Malfoy with a wand, it would be fine.

            Harry performed the spell Thursday night and left Draco alone while he went to work Friday. He worried all day long Friday while he was trying to work. He repeatedly had thoughts of his foolishness to leave Malfoy alone with a wand. He’d given Malfoy the Hawthorn wand back last week and he just felt wrong leaving a pregnant wizard home alone without a wand. What if something happened and Malfoy died for want of a wand? That was the thinking that had caused Harry to leave that morning without taking the Hawthorn wand away, but once he got to work he couldn’t help but think of all the horrible things Malfoy could do with a wand.

            Harry had been certain something would go wrong while he was away, but that wasn’t the case. He came home Friday evening to find Malfoy reading in the drawing room and the house intact. There was nothing out of place and nothing to indicate any escape attempts on Malfoy’s part. Not even Kreacher had anything negative to say about Malfoy when Harry, in his paranoia, asked the elf for a minute by minute breakdown of Malfoy’s day. According to Kreacher, Malfoy had spent the day reading and repairing the house with the wand. All that Malfoy had actually done was cast dozens of repairos, mend a rift in the floor, and spruce up the garden.

            Harry was growing used to Malfoy’s company. He learned a lot about Malfoy during their daily interviews and even more about Malfoy at night. It seemed Malfoy was plagued by nightmares almost every night. On the few nights Harry didn’t wake up to Malfoy’s screams, he woke up in the morning to find Malfoy sleeping on the floor in the corner of Harry’s room. Malfoy would be curled up with his knees to his chest and his head on his knees, blond hair spilled out down his legs and sound asleep; Harry couldn’t imagine how Malfoy could sleep like that, but Malfoy had done it several times now.

            The subject of the baby hadn’t come up again. Harry kept waiting for Malfoy to mention it and Malfoy kept not mentioning it. Harry knew they needed to talk about it, but didn’t know how to bring it up. He also didn’t know what to tell his friends. Hermione had been away most of the time, but she was due back from Hogwarts for the weekend. She had owled, requesting if she could come over to Grimmauld Place or if Harry would come over to the Burrow. Ron too had been owling asking Harry to come over, but it was Ginny’s owls that confused Harry the most.

            Ginny would owl Harry asking him to come over during the day, when she knew perfectly well he had work. Then after he sent an owl reminding her of his work schedule, she would send an owl back complaining about it and saying that he never spent any time with her anymore. Well that was true enough, because he’d been avoiding her, because he didn’t know what to say to her. He didn’t want to tell her what was going on with Malfoy, because he still hoped Malfoy would announce any day now that Malfoy wanted the abortion.

            Harry would often still be lying awake thinking about Ginny when Malfoy would wake up screaming. It happened again on Friday night and Harry looked up at the ceiling and debated whether or not he should go into Malfoy’s room or not. It was always awkward when he did, but when he didn’t, Malfoy always ended up sleeping in the corner of his room. He didn’t want that, so he got up and went into Malfoy’s room.

            Malfoy looked worse than usual.

            “What was it this time?” Harry asked.

            “The baby turned out to be the Dark Lord’s after all,” Malfoy said. “It lit fiendfyre inside of me. Then it burst out of my stomach and Vince’s face was in the fire. And then the baby slithered out and started hissing at me.”

            Harry sighed disappointed that Malfoy had wanted to talk; he always hoped Malfoy would just shrug the dream off and go back to sleep, but somehow Malfoy always wanted to talk about these things. Plus, that sounded like the bad dream to end all bad dreams. Harry could imagine how terrified he’d be if he had Voldemort’s spawn inside of him. It’d probably burst out of his stomach with red slitted eyes and no nose; Harry shuddered at the thought.

            “There’s always a chance it is Voldemort’s baby, even though biologically it’s mine; the semen came from his corrupted body after all. It’s probably safest to take the abortion potion and then you won’t have to worry about it anymore,” Harry said, taking the opportunity afforded by the mention of the baby to bring up the abortion option. This was the first time all week Malfoy had mentioned the baby and he was sure Malfoy should be ready to get rid of the thing by now.

            “No,” Malfoy said.

            “What?” Harry was certain he’d heard Draco wrong. Draco couldn’t possibly want to keep the baby.

            “You really suck at talking Potter. Why’d you even offer?”

            “I don’t know, Malfoy. Are you saying you want to keep the baby?”

            “Yes, I think I do.”

            “Why? You hate me.”

            “I don’t hate you Potter. I hate the Dark Lord. I hate Fenrir Greyback. I hate muggles. I only find you irritating and annoying.”

            “Still, we’re not even friends. You can’t want to have my baby.”

            “I’m already having it. Can you imagine the headlines if I were to get the abortion now? Death Eater Scum Murders Potter Baby or Death Eater Kills Savior’s Child; they’ll be asking for my head by the end of the day.”

            “I’ll brew the potion for you if you like, so that no one finds out; you could help me, if you don’t trust my brewing.”

            “All those Aurors and healers already know.”

            “Yeah, but we’ll say you had a miscarriage and I’ll ask the Aurors not to say anything. I don’t know about the healers, but in the muggle world healers can’t tell your private information. It’s possible that it won’t even get out that you were ever pregnant.”

            Draco shrugged, but didn’t say anything.

            “Do you seriously want to keep my baby? Forget about what other people will think; I’m asking about you, Draco Malfoy, what do you want? You could marry someone you care about and have a baby conceived out of love. Don’t you want that?”

            “I can’t.”

            “Sure you can. I’m sure there are tons of purebloods out there who’d have you.”

            “No, I’m a Death Eater, no one will want me. I’ll be locked up in Azkaban for life.”

            “No you won’t.”

            “They arrested my mother Potter. My mother’s never committed a crime in her life; they arrested her for her association with me and father. Imagine what they’ll do to me, someone who actually tried to capture you.”

            “I’ll testify for you; you let me go on Easter.”

            “Don’t remind me; that’s how I got into this mess in the first place,” Draco said, looking down at his flat stomach.

            “So what do you think is going to happen then? You’ll have this baby and then be sent to Azkaban? This baby will be what, your heir raised by your mum?”

            “You’d send me to Azkaban when I’m pregnant with your baby? You’d let your own child be born and raised in prison?”

            “You’re the one who’s so sure you’re going to prison. And no, I wouldn’t let the baby go with you. As soon as it’s born I’d send it to your mum.”

            “And it’d die of starvation without me.”

            “Huh?”

            “Babies have to be nursed Potter, surely even you must know that.”

            “How can you nurse; you’re a wizard.”

            “Same way I can get pregnant.”

            “And how exactly is that? No one ever explained it to me.”

            “You don’t know?”

            “No, I don’t.”

            Malfoy and Harry stared at each other for a few minutes, before Malfoy said, “Well I’m not going to explain the facts of life to you Potter. You can read a book for all I care.”

            “Alright, fine, whatever. So you nurse the baby and then you go to Azkaban?”

            “No. If I have the Savior of the Wizarding World’s baby, people will assume we’re a couple, which means they won’t be pressing for the kiss. The way I see it, this situation turned from the worst possible scenario to the best possible scenario inside of a day.”

            “So you want to keep this baby to save your skin and keep you out of Azkaban? That’s a pretty pathetic reason to bring a kid into this world if you ask me.”

            “It’s not just that.” Malfoy’s voice sounded small.

            “Then what else is there?”

            “You wouldn’t understand.”

            “Try me.”

            “It’s not in your body, but mine. It’s not just some random kid, but _my_ kid. I didn’t really want to get rid of it before, but I thought it was evil and that I had to get rid of it. I was so unbelievably _happy_ when I found out it wasn’t the Dark Lord’s. It didn’t even matter that it’s yours, just that it isn’t _His_. Before the pregnancy test I kept hoping that it didn’t take and I wasn’t pregnant, but after I knew I was, it just felt… I don’t think I could live with myself if I killed it.”

            Harry didn’t know what to say to that. What was there to say to that? He couldn’t make Malfoy get rid of the baby. Maybe he could physically force Malfoy to swallow an abortion potion, but he only considered that for half a second before brushing the idea aside. He wasn’t a monster and he couldn’t do that to Malfoy. His chest hurt when he thought about doing that, like the space around his heart was constricting.

            So they were keeping the baby and that just left what to tell Ginny.

            “Alright, fine, keep it. I’m going back to bed,” Harry said.

            Harry went back to his bed and lay awake thinking about Ginny and what she would say when she found out. She deserved better than this. He felt like he was cheating on her to be having this baby with Malfoy. He didn’t want to just abandon Malfoy and the baby, but having Malfoy and the baby around wasn’t fair to her. She deserved to have all of a man’s attention. She shouldn’t have to put up with a kid that wasn’t hers and she definitely didn’t deserve to have to put up with Malfoy. Harry still wanted her, but he would understand if she didn’t want him after this. He would have to tell her tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two ways I could go from here. Originally I thought that Harry would be open to the idea of a family and get used to the baby idea within the next month or so. But then I had an idea for adding in more drama and giving Draco a chance to be more manipulative. Draco could lie and say he will have the abortion after all, but then back out and make Harry feel like shit for trying to push him into it. It would still work out to Harry accepting the baby in a month or so and lets Draco show his true colors. Without it, Draco seems to be coming off too innocent and Hufflepuff. What do you think? Drama and scheming, or quiet acceptance and innocence?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your reviews! Majority rules, so quiet acceptance and innocence won.

            Harry wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but Malfoy must’ve had another bad dream while Harry was out, because Malfoy was once again sleeping in the corner of Harry’s room. Malfoy’s head was tilted to the side and Harry could see Malfoy’s cheeks puffing out with each exhale. Malfoy’s hair fell messily over his face and there was something about Malfoy asleep that was so much more endearing than Malfoy awake. If only Malfoy would stay looking peaceful and innocent then Harry wouldn’t really mind having Malfoy around all of the time.

            “Get up. We’re going to the Burrow today,” Harry announced. It was time to talk to Ginny and he imagined that that might take all day. He might as well take Malfoy with him and get it all over with and out in the open. Besides, this would be Malfoy’s first real test, because Harry wanted to see what Malfoy would say about going to the Weasleys.

            “Where?” Malfoy asked sleepily.

            “The Burrow, you know, Ron’s house?”

            “Huh? I thought I wasn’t allowed out of this house.”

            “Well I’m spending the day at the Burrow and I’m going to tell them about you, so you might as well come with.”

            “Alright, let me get ready,” Malfoy said yawning. “I couldn’t get back to sleep last night.”

            A half an hour later they were dressed and apparating over to the Burrow; Harry having temporally lifted the spell binding Malfoy to Grimmauld Place.

            They had an awkward breakfast with the Weasleys in which everyone tiptoed around the issue of what Draco Malfoy was doing at their table. Malfoy, for his part, ignored the stares and didn’t make any comments other than to tell Molly that the food was excellent. Harry wasn’t sure what Malfoy was playing at acting so civil, but he couldn’t believe Malfoy wasn’t up to something. Malfoy wasn’t even sneering and that wasn’t like Malfoy at all.

            Ginny glared daggers at Malfoy all through breakfast and it made Harry think that the conversation that was to come with his girlfriend was not going to go well. As soon as Harry had eaten, he asked her to go outside for a chat with him, leaving Malfoy with Ron, Molly, Hermione, and Arthur.

            “What’s going on Harry? I haven’t seen you in two weeks!” Ginny exclaimed.

            “I’ve been dealing with Malfoy. I told you I’ve been put in charge of babysitting him.”

            “What does babysitting Malfoy have to do with the fact you didn’t even write me a letter?”

            “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t think of a way to explain what’s going on and it didn’t seem like the type of thing I should tell you in a letter.”

            “And what is going on? Why isn’t Malfoy in Azkaban?”

            “He’s pregnant; they didn’t want to send someone who’s pregnant there, I guess.”

            “He’s what!?! How can he be pregnant?”

            “Voldemort did it. Something about some pureblood wizards being able to get pregnant; I don’t really know how it works, but that’s what Robards told me and the healers confirmed it.” Harry had asked some of the other Aurors at work about male pregnancy and been told a story about pureblood wizards buggering themselves on unicorn horns that was so outrageously unbelievable that he was pretty sure the senior Aurors were just messing with him. Taking the mickey out of Harry Potter was a popular pastime at Auror headquarters.

            “Yeah, I know about it being possible, but I don’t understand how Malfoy wound up pregnant. Is it Voldemort’s then?”

            “Malfoy said Voldemort impregnated him, but Voldemort didn’t have his own body and the healers confirmed that the baby isn’t Voldemort’s.”

            “Then whose is it? Pettigrew’s?”

            “Mine.”

            “What!?! This is a joke, right?”

            “Unfortunately not; I wish it was.”

            “Are you queer, Harry?” Ginny asked, eyes boring into Harry, like she could see through him.

            “What? No, why would you ask that?”

            “Because this would make a lot more sense if you were. If you’ve been cheating on me with Malfoy, it would explain everything. How you got him pregnant and why you didn’t want to shag, because you’re already shagging Malfoy.”

            “No, I’m not! I’ve never done it with anyone. I just thought we should wait until we’re married is all. I didn’t want to rush it.”

            “This is all too convenient. Voldemort just happens to knock Malfoy up with your kid? Do you realize how unbelievable that sounds?”

            “Yes, but it happened. How else do you explain it?”

            “Easy; you were lonely. You were gone an awfully long time Harry, I can see how you were a bit desperate when you found yourself at Malfoy Manor. Malfoy offered himself to you and then let you escape. I can’t believe you didn’t wait for me! I waited for you!”

            “I did wait for you! I swear I haven’t had sex with Malfoy; I’ve just been interviewing him for work and keeping an eye on him, so the baby doesn’t have to be born in Azkaban. That’s all, I promise you.”

            “Then why did it take you so long to tell me? It’s been two weeks Harry. Even if this wasn’t your fault, you still kept it from me.”

            “Because I was hoping he wouldn’t want to keep it.”

            “Is he going to get rid of it then?” Ginny asked hopefully.

            “No, he told me last night he’s keeping it.”

            “Ugh! Why does he always have to make the worst possible decisions?”

            “Look, this isn’t what I wanted and I know you don’t deserve this. If you want to leave me, I’ll understand,” Harry said, hoping Ginny would want to stick things out. He had spent the last year or so fantasizing about spending his life with her and now the war was over and his happily ever after just was not piecing itself together the way he’d planned.

            “You’re right, I don’t deserve this. Consider us over,” Ginny said and stormed off into the house.

            Harry followed Ginny into the house. She froze in the doorway, watching Malfoy talking to Molly. Molly had her hand on Malfoy’s stomach and Malfoy was smirking and listening to Molly chatter on about pregnancy symptoms and how to deal with morning sickness. Molly had clearly discovered that Malfoy was pregnant and her mothering instincts had latched on.

            “Ginger really does help with the queasiness dear; I always kept a plate of gingersnaps by the bed when I was pregnant,” Molly was saying.

            “Erh!” Ginny huffed and stormed up the stairs.

            “What’s wrong with Ginny?” Molly asked.

            “We broke up,” Harry answered still in a bit of shock. He couldn’t believe Ginny had broken things off. Sure he had contemplated it before, but that was totally different from it actually happening. And even in his worse nightmares she hadn’t accused him of sleeping with Malfoy; he felt hurt that she would even think that.

            “Oh dear,” Molly replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying not to make Ginny come off as such a bitch, because I dislike character bashing in general, but this was really hard to write. Did I succeed?
> 
> Up next will be Harry’s talk with his friends about Malfoy.


	7. Chapter 7

            “What’s wrong with Ginny?” Molly asked.

            “We broke up,” Harry answered.

            “Oh dear,” Molly replied.

            Malfoy didn’t say anything to that, but the smile he’d had on his face seemed to beam even brighter. “Molly, do you think you could teach me how to knit? I’d like to make the baby a blanket,” Malfoy said, taking the focus off of Ginny Weasley and putting it back on him, where it belonged.

            “Yes of course, Draco dear, I’d be glad to teach you,” Molly replied.

            Malfoy smirked and Harry made eye contact with Ron and then Hermione. Harry inclined his head towards the door and then went outside. Ron and Hermione followed him.

            “What’s going on? What’d you break up with Ginny for?” Ron asked petulantly.

            “She broke up with me,” Harry retorted.

            “What?” Ron asked. “She loves you.”

            “What happened, Harry?” Hermione asked.

            “I told her about Malfoy and that I’d understand if she dumped me and she did,” Harry answered.

            “Why would she dump you over Malfoy? You’re just watching him for Robards, right?” Ron asked.

            “What’s going on Harry?” Hermione asked.

            “How much did Malfoy tell you?” Harry asked. By the way Malfoy and Molly were speaking, Harry had assumed Malfoy had already told everyone else about the baby while he was talking to Ginny.

            “Just that they didn’t send him to prison on account of his pregnancy. You were available and volunteered to watch him,” Ron said.

            Harry waited a moment to see if there was more. When there wasn’t, he asked, “Is that it?”

            “Yes, what else would there be Harry?” Hermione asked.

            “Did he tell you who the other father is?” Harry asked.

            “No,” Ron answered.

            “I’d assumed it was another Death Eater or another Slytherin student. Is it someone else?” Hermione asked.

            “It’s me,” Harry admitted.

            “Harry! How could you? What about Ginny?” Ron asked.

            “Yes, how could you Harry? You were with us every time you were with Malfoy,” Hermione said.

            “I didn’t. Voldemort did. Voldemort’s body was made with my blood, so when Voldemort tried to knock Malfoy up, it backfired and turned out to be my baby. I saw the paternity spell myself,” Harry said.

            “Malfoy probably took something to mess with the results of the spell,” Ron said.

            “I don’t think he did. The Malfoys were trying to abort the baby, because they thought it was Voldemort’s. As far as I can tell, Malfoy was completely taken by surprise to learn that it wasn’t Voldemort’s,” Harry replied.

            “Malfoy’s going to abort it then? He didn’t sound like he was in there.” Ron jerked his head in the direction of the house.

            “Oh Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, but didn’t finish the thought.

            “No, he was when he thought it was Voldemort’s, but now that it’s mine he’s decided to keep it,” Harry answered.

            “Why? Why would he want your kid? No offense, mate,” Ron said.

            “None taken. I asked him the same thing. At first it sounded like the answer was that having my kid would keep him out of Azkaban, but then when I said that that was an awful reason to have a kid, he had a sappy reason. It sounded like he loves the kid,” Harry revealed.

            “Harry, you can’t let Malfoy raise your kid. It’ll turn into a pureblood snob!” Ron exclaimed.

            “Ronald, Harry can’t take a baby away from its mother!” Hermione exclaimed.

            “He could marry Ginny and raise the baby as their own and then it wouldn’t have a Death Eater for a mum,” Ron retorted.

            “Um, hold on you two; Ginny just dumped me, so that idea is out,” Harry said.

            “Well what _are_ you going to do Harry?” Hermione asked.

            “I haven’t gotten that far yet. Malfoy just barely told me he’s keeping it,” Harry said.

            “You’ll do what’s best for the baby, I know Harry,” Hermione said.

            “And what’s best is getting it away from Malfoy,” Ron replied.

            “A baby needs both its parents,” Hermione retorted.

            “Look, can we just drop it for now?” Harry asked.

            Ron and Hermione agreed and they switched to talking about the logistics of Malfoy living with Harry. Then they spent some time catching up with each other, each of them telling the others what they had been doing for the past two weeks. Ron had mostly been helping George prepare to reopen the joke shop and Hermione had been helping repair Hogwarts.

            By the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back inside, Malfoy seemed to have Molly eating up the whole baby thing. Molly was talking about knitting baby sweaters and she even had a half-finished tiny sweater she was working on. Harry was relieved when he figured out that this sweater was for Teddy, not Malfoy’s baby. The idea that Molly would be knitting the baby a sweater just made it seem all the more real.

            “I’ll just go upstairs and talk to Ginny,” Ron said, before running up the stairs to his sister’s room.

            Not long after that Molly suggested inviting Andromeda and Teddy over. Harry wanted to see them, but he felt bad about not being more involved in Teddy’s life. He probably shouldn’t have jumped right into work with the Aurors and instead taken some time off to get to know Teddy. Only Teddy was a teeny tiny baby and he had no clue what to do with one. He felt hopeless and out of place whenever Teddy was around.

            “I’ve always wanted to meet my Aunt Andromeda,” Malfoy said. “Just as long as she’s not like my other aunt.” Malfoy actually shuddered at the mention of Bellatrix and since a few of those nightmares Malfoy had woken Harry up with had been about Bellatrix, Harry could understand why.

            Ron and Ginny came back downstairs and rejoined the group. She ignored Harry and acted like he wasn’t even in the room, but at least Ron was still speaking to him.

            Somehow the whole Malfoy getting to know the family thing became even more surreal an hour later when Dromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin came out of the fireplace. Malfoy jumped when he saw Dromeda for the first time, obviously mistaking her for Bellatrix and cowering behind Harry for protection.

            “It’s alright; she only looks like Bellatrix at first. Once you get to know her you’ll see that she’s nothing like her sister,” Harry said.

            Malfoy nodded and sat back down. To Harry’s amazement, Dromeda and Malfoy seemed to hit it off and by the end of the surreal meeting, Dromeda was letting Malfoy hold Teddy and Malfoy was fawning over the little blue-haired baby. A long stretch of their conversation revolved around Narcissa Malfoy, who Malfoy hadn’t seen since he was taken to St. Mungo’s and Narcissa was taken to the Ministry. Narcissa had been released later that day, but wasn’t allowed back into Malfoy Manor, because Aurors were still processing it for dark artifacts and evidence regarding Death Eater hangouts. As it turned out, Narcissa had shown up on Dromeda’s doorstep a week ago and the two had reconnected over tea, which was how Dromeda knew Narcissa was staying with their parents, Madam and Mister Black.

            Teddy was a very tiny baby and Harry was always too afraid he’d break Teddy to hold the baby, but Draco held the baby and didn’t even seem worried about hurting Teddy. Malfoy was cuddling the baby and cooing nonsense at Teddy that seemed very wrong coming out of Malfoy’s mouth. “He’s absolutely adorable Auntie Dromeda,” Malfoy said, cradling Teddy to his chest.

            “Thank you Draco. Maybe I can come over to Harry’s place with Teddy during the week and we could have tea,” Dromeda suggested.

            “I’d like that,” Malfoy replied.

            “It’s always good to get lots of practice with an actual baby in before your baby arrives. It’ll prepare you for all of those late nights,” Molly said.

            Harry couldn’t take any more of this, so he went into the kitchen and Ron and Hermione followed. They sat at the table eating Molly’s biscuits and determinedly avoiding the topic of the elephant in the next room. Harry passed the next few hours in that manner, occasionally peeking out on the sitting room, to make sure Malfoy hadn’t escaped or caused any trouble. But all Malfoy seemed to be doing was fawning over Teddy with the women.

            Harry started to think that his plan to bring Malfoy with him to the Burrow had backfired. Not only had Malfoy not insulted the Weasleys once, but he had Molly and Dromeda doting all over him and telling him what a good father he was going to be.

            That evening Harry was glad to get back to the relative normalcy of Grimmauld Place. There was just something so wrong about Malfoy making nice with the Weasleys and Tonks’ mum. Ron’s last words to Harry kept playing through his head that night. “What is Malfoy playing at?” Ron had asked.

            Harry didn’t know what Malfoy was playing at, but whatever it was, Malfoy was good at playing at it. Harry supposed he’d just have to wait and see to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone have any ideas for what should happen next? Maybe something sneaky Draco could do to manipulate Harry into doing what he wants?


	8. Chapter8

            Sunday Malfoy surprised Harry with a request. “Can my mother come over?” Malfoy asked.

            Harry wanted to say no, because he didn’t want to deal with Narcissa Malfoy, but Malfoy just looked so hopeful and Malfoy had been on his best behavior yesterday at the Weasleys. Maybe Malfoy’s reason for making nice with the Weasleys was simply that Malfoy wanted Harry to return the favor and let Malfoy’s mum over. Harry grudgingly agreed, thinking that this couldn’t possibly turn out well.

            Harry allowed Malfoy to firecall Malfoy’s grandmother and pass a scrap of parchment with the secret of Harry’s address through for Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa came right over and returned the scrap of parchment back to Harry and then proceeded to thank Harry for saving her son’s life during the war and taking care of Malfoy now. That seemed normal enough, but Narcissa had a large canvas bag slung over her shoulder and Harry eyed it suspiciously.

            “Did you bring Malfoy something?” Harry asked her.

            “Yes; potions ingredients. I know I should have sent these for you ages ago Draco, but you’d be surprised how many apothecaries refused to sell to me. Yesterday I finally tried Udolph Bulstrode and he sold to me. I had assumed with his son Evrard’s arrest that his shop would be shut down, but it wasn’t,” Narcissa replied.

            “Malfoy can’t have potions ingredients; he’s under house arrest and should consider himself lucky I let him have his wand.”

            “But he needs these and they’re all harmless; it’s just for an anti-nausea potion and a nutrient potion for his pregnancy.”

            “Why didn’t you just buy him those potions then? With ingredients he could make anything,” Harry said.

            Malfoy snorted in amusement. “Forgive Potter, Mother, he’s not very good with potions,” Malfoy said to his mother. “Potter, if you don’t believe us that these ingredients are harmless, why don’t you get someone at work or one of your friends to check them out for you?”

            “Why bother? I can just make your mum take these things back with her.”

            “You are the one who complains about me hogging the lavatory when I’m vomiting. This potion will make that stop, or do you secretly like seeing me suffer?” Malfoy asked.

            “Draco, don’t be childish. We are all adults here and surely Auror Potter can agree that you need these potions,” Narcissa said.

            To Harry’s knowledge, Malfoy had in fact puked on numerous occasions since moving in with him. Thankfully Malfoy didn’t advertise the situation, but there had been several times when he had obviously taken off running to the loo with his hands covering his mouth. And Malfoy spent so much time in the loo that Harry had repeatedly gone to the door to check on him, only to turn away quickly at the sound of retching from the other side of the door. But the worst had been one time when Harry was showering and Malfoy had unlocked the door with a spell, letting himself into the bathroom to vomit in the toilet. Harry had screeched indignantly, grabbed a towel, and demanded an explanation of why Malfoy hadn’t just gone to the downstairs toilet. Malfoy had been too busy violently disgorging his stomach contents to answer for quite some time, but later that day he had explained that he knew he couldn’t make it downstairs, so he had barged in on Harry. Harry was still upset, but Malfoy insisted that he had been too busy hurling to see anything and there was a patch of vomit in the hallway leading to the bathroom that Kreacher had to clean up, so Harry thought that Malfoy was probably telling the truth.

            Harry did not in fact enjoy Malfoy’s puking, especially that time when Malfoy barged in on him in the shower, so he did agree that Malfoy probably would be less unpleasant to have around if he wasn’t vomiting so often. “Fine, but why can’t you bring him the potion already made?” Harry asked.

            “I don’t know how to make it. I’ve never been good with potions; Lucius and Draco have always been the brewers in the family,” Narcissa answered.

            “And why didn’t you buy it already made from that Bulstrode guy?” Harry asked.

            “He didn’t have any already made and no one else would sell to me,” Narcissa explained.

            “Fine, whatever, I guess he could brew a couple harmless potions, but that’s it,” Harry acquiesced. “And I’m checking those ingredients against the potions your making, to make sure you’re telling the truth about what you’re brewing.”

            “Thank you Auror Potter,” Narcissa replied, handing over the bag of ingredients to Harry.

            Malfoy went to his room, retrieved a potions book, and handed it to Harry with two potions marked with slips of parchment. Harry opened the book and started reading the preface to the potions, making sure they weren’t in any way dangerous at any stage. While Harry read, Draco and Narcissa started talking about baby matters and the possibility of moving back into Malfoy Manor.

            “I do hope I’m allowed back in soon,” Narcissa was saying. “All our baby furniture is inside.”

            “I’m not sure I’ll be allowed to move back. No one’s told me how long I’m to stay with Potter,” Malfoy replied.

            And then Malfoy and Narcissa turned to look expectantly at Harry. “I don’t know either Malfoy,” Harry replied, looking up from the book. The first potion, for the nausea, really did seem to be completely harmless.

            “This is silly; our families are being united by this child; I think it’s time we start addressing each other on a first name basis. Harry, I want you to call me Cissy,” Narcissa said.

            “And I guess you can call me Draco,” Malfoy said unenthusiastically.

            “Alright Cissy, Draco.” The name got stuck in Harry’s throat like a lump, but Harry forced it out.

            “If they don’t let me go home soon Harry, would you be opposed to moving into the Manor with me and Mother? I don’t fancy living here with the baby,” Malfoy said.

            “No, I won’t agree to that. You have to be out of your mind if you think I’d move in there. Are you forgetting that Bellatrix tortured Hermione there?” Harry asked.

            “She tortured me there too,” Malfoy replied.

            “Then how can you want to go back there?” Harry asked indignantly.

            “Harry, you have to understand that it’s our home. Horrible things were done there, but it’s still our home,” Cissy said.

            “Well I won’t live there and I don’t want my child living there either,” Harry said, before getting up to leave the room and taking the potion ingredients and potions book with him. It was the first thing he’d ever said about his child. Up until now it’d been Malfoy’s child. It was still an abstract concept, but even if it was Malfoy’s, it was a baby and didn’t deserve to grow up under the same roof that Bellatrix and Voldemort had tortured under.

            Harry let Cissy and Malfoy catch up without him in the drawing room, while he hid out in his bedroom checking the ingredients against the potions in the book. When he was sure the potions ingredients really were for the potions Cissy said they were for, he came out to return the potions book and ingredients to Malfoy, asking only why there was so much of each ingredient; enough to make three batches of each potion. Cissy had explained that she bought extra, since Draco would need it, the ingredients wouldn’t spoil quickly, and she had had such trouble acquiring the ingredients in the first place. That seemed reasonable enough, so Harry went back to his room and read one of his new Auror training books.

            Harry came out of his room twice more before dinner to check on Malfoy and Cissy and both times he found them in the small room next to the kitchen brewing the anti-nausea potion. Harry thought the room was intended to be a dining room, but it had been set up for brewing since the summer back before fifth year when he first stayed at Grimmauld Place, so it was the logical choice for Malfoy to set up his cauldron. The anti-nausea potion wasn’t complicated, nor was the nutrient potion, so Harry figured they wouldn’t take Malfoy long to brew. And as expected, Malfoy was done with the first in time for dinner.

            Harry shooed Cissy away after dinner and he didn’t participate in any of their absurd discussions about the baby during dinner. Well they weren’t entirely absurd, but the two Malfoys were discussing whether the baby was a boy or a girl, based on no actual information in favor of either likelihood. It was all about what recent dreams Narcissa had had that it was a girl and Draco’s gut feelings that it was a boy. Harry wanted nothing to do with the whole discussion.

            That night Harry didn’t bother getting up out of bed when he heard Malfoy’s screams. He was lying there awake, staring at the ceiling and he knew he should’ve gotten up to check on Malfoy, but he didn’t feel like it, so he lay there instead. It was only a few minutes later when his door opened and Malfoy came in, which was awkward, because now Malfoy knew Harry was awake and that Harry hadn’t come to check on Malfoy. Malfoy just looked at Harry accusingly and went over to Malfoy’s usual corner.

            Harry didn’t want to ask it, but he did anyway. “What was it this time?”

            “It’s not important; you obviously don’t care,” Malfoy replied.

            “I didn’t hear you. I thought you were asleep,” Harry lied. Malfoy didn’t respond to that. “Come on, tell me already.”

            “You obviously don’t want to know. I’ll just go back to my bed…” Malfoy trailed off, but made no move to get back up.

            Harry was too tired to deal with this. He had to be up in the morning and he hadn’t been to sleep yet. He’d been up more nights than he’d gotten a good night’s sleep lately. He got up and kneeled down in front of Malfoy and placed his hands on Malfoy’s knees. “Will you please just tell me what it is?” Harry requested.

            “I dreamed you took the baby away from me,” Malfoy said, unshed tears shinning in his eyes.

            “Why would you dream that?”

            “Probably because the girl Weasley said you would.”

            “She said what? When?” Harry asked. Ginny had been outside with him at first and then had stormed off to her room. It wasn’t even until after Ron had spoken with her that she had come down and been in the same room as Malfoy. Harry hadn’t heard her say anything to Malfoy.

            “When you went in the kitchen with Weasley and Granger.”

            “You know, everyone at the Burrow is named Weasley. You’ll have to start calling him Ron.”

            Malfoy nodded, but didn’t look up from his knees.

            “Look, I don’t want to take your baby from you.”

            “Do you want our baby at all?”

            “No, not really,” Harry said, but knew instantly he didn’t mean it. He said it because that’s what he thought he should feel and what Malfoy wanted to hear, but Malfoy clenched his fists and shut his eyes. Harry saw tears running down Malfoy’s cheeks, as Malfoy jumped up and went back to Malfoy’s room.

            Harry followed after Malfoy and asked, “What do you want from me? I thought you didn’t want me to take the baby from you?”

            “I don’t, but I’d hoped you’d be somewhat interested in your child!” Malfoy shouted. “You won’t let us go home, but you don’t want us either.”

            “Look, I’m not going to abandon my kid, but it’s still a bit early. I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

            “Just go away; we don’t need you anyway,” Malfoy said thickly. His shoulders shook and Harry knew he was crying. “I can raise the baby on my own.”

            “I’ll give you child support if that’s what you want.”

            “I don’t need your money; you can keep it.”

            “I don’t know what you want. I’m trying here, I am, but we weren’t even friends.”

            “I don’t need your pity Potter.”

            “Fine!” Harry said with a huff and went back to his room and shut his door so that he wouldn’t have to hear Malfoy’s crying.

            Harry felt like an arse. Malfoy was obviously emotional from the pregnancy and Harry had said the wrong thing. Within moments of saying he didn’t want the baby, Harry knew it was a lie. Maybe his life would be easier without the baby and he would stand a chance at getting Ginny back, but as long as there was a child of his in this world, he couldn’t act like it didn’t exist. He couldn’t act like Voldemort’s dad did and let a child grow up feeling unloved and unwanted; he had enough of that himself growing up with the Dursleys.

            Harry may never like Malfoy, but he’d still give Malfoy child support and take the kid to the park on weekends to play catch; probably hang crayon drawings on his icebox too. He had been trying to explain that to Malfoy, but Malfoy had shut him down and been unwilling to hear it. Part of him wanted to go back into Malfoy’s room and make Malfoy understand, but the other part of him didn’t want to deal with Malfoy anymore tonight. He was exhausted and needed to sleep and they both needed to calm down so they could talk about this like adults.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all gave me some amazing story ideas; thank you all so much! Harry’s starting to come around and warming up to the baby idea :)


	9. Chapter9

            Malfoy was brewing again on Monday while Harry was at work. It gave Malfoy something to do during the day. Harry meant to talk to Malfoy about their argument when he got home from work, but he couldn’t bring himself to mention it and Malfoy seemed to be ignoring him. Malfoy spent the evening locked away in his room and Harry let him.

            Harry kept trying to work up the courage to talk to Malfoy, but then it was late and Malfoy was already asleep when he opened Malfoy’s door. Thus Harry resolved to speak to Malfoy the next day about it. That night Harry wasn’t woken up by Malfoy’s screams, nor did Malfoy come into Harry’s room; instead Malfoy cast a muffling charm on his room, so that Harry wouldn’t hear him.

            Harry apparated home Tuesday evening determined to go through with the talk and not put it off another day. When he opened the door to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, he was greeted by the smell of apple pie; warm pie crust, apples, and cinnamon. Kreacher had never baked him a pie before and Malfoy definitely wasn’t the baking type, so Harry wondered what was going on. He went upstairs and immediately spotted the culprit behind the pie; Molly Weasley was in his drawing room knitting with Malfoy. Neither of them had much on their needles, so Harry couldn’t tell what they were making, but Molly seemed to be better at it.

            “Oh drat, I dropped another stich, Molly,” Malfoy said, holding out his work to the older woman.

            “It’s no problem dear, you just pick it back up like this,” Molly said, fixing the knitting quickly and handing it back to Malfoy.

            “Hullo Molly,” Harry greeted.

            “Oh Harry dear, you’re home. Good. Draco, why don’t you go check on our roast?” Molly asked, obvious in her desire to get Harry alone.

            Malfoy agreed and Harry took the seat across from the witch.

            “What’s going on Molly?” Harry asked once Malfoy was out of the room.

            “Draco and I had a lovely day together. I showed him how to cook a roast with all of the fixings and bake an apple pie, and we’ve just been knitting,” Molly said. “Just between you and me dear, he’s bloody awful in the kitchen. I wouldn’t let him make the toast without supervision.”

            Harry nodded; he had Kreacher and no plans to make Malfoy cook. Malfoy making nice with Molly seemed just as surreal today as it had Saturday, but at least Molly had kept Malfoy busy and out of trouble for the day.

            “Harry, I want to talk to you about Draco and the baby. He told me what you said. I know this is all quite sudden and a shock to you, but you can’t possibly mean that. I know you don’t exactly get on with him, but he’s pregnant with your child Harry and you ought to be more considerate and understanding. He is the victim in this whole pregnancy mess. He didn’t consent to being impregnated by You-Know-Who and he didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

            Harry knew that what Molly said was true, but deep down he thought it was Malfoy’s fault. “He’s not completely innocent either. If he hadn’t taken the mark, then this would have never happened.”

            “He was a child, Harry, same as you. If he hadn’t taken the mark, he would be dead for refusing You-Know-Who. Then when you were lying in the forbidden forest, Cissy would have had no reason to lie to You-Know-Who and protect you. You would be dead and some other person would be pregnant with your baby, which would be raised by You-Know-Who.”

            Harry had a sudden thought of Bellatrix carrying his child and shuddered in revulsion; Malfoy was definitely not the worst person that Voldemort could have chosen to carry this baby. And Molly did have a point, that Harry would probably be dead if it hadn’t been for Cissy and Malfoy each saving him once. And if he hadn’t had Malfoy’s wand, he wouldn’t have beaten Voldemort the way he had. Harry nodded, indicating that he was listening to Molly and agreed with her. Maybe Malfoy wasn’t totally innocent, but nor was he to blame for this mess.

            “A baby is a person, not something you can cast away because it’s inconvenient, Harry,” Molly continued. “You may not think so now, but once that baby is here you’re going to grow to love him or her. One day you will regret burning these bridges with Draco and your child. A child is a precious gift and you may never get another.”

            “I didn’t mean what I said Molly, honest. I thought that was what he wanted me to say and when I realized it was the wrong thing, I tried to take it back, but he didn’t want to listen to me.”

            “He said you’ve made it quite clear that you feel he should get an abortion and that you want nothing to do with this child.”

            “Yeah, I said that, but I didn’t mean it. I was trying to get up the courage to talk to him all last night, but when I finally did, he was already asleep.”

            “Alright dear, that’s a good start, but you need to stop saying such insensitive things. Draco is pregnant and highly emotional. He’s unmarried and in Ministry custody, which makes him vulnerable. He told me that he feels like a prisoner trapped here with someone who doesn’t want him around and doesn’t feel his baby has a right to exist. And he has no one to turn to, besides his mother, since most of his family, including his father, is in Ministry custody. He’s barely eighteen and pregnant with a baby that he didn’t ask for, but he’s still trying to make the best of it and you aren’t making things easier on him.”

            “Alright, I’ll watch my mouth, but other than that I’ve been taking care of him. I’ve fed him, retrieved his clothes, and even gave him back his wand. What else am I supposed to do?”

            “You need to make sure he has a proper balanced diet and access to the proper pregnancy approved potions. You need to show him that you care about his well-being and that of your child. Right now he is worried sick, because he thinks he’ll be stuck here forever under the same roof as you and have to raise his child with a dad around who hates them. That wouldn’t be a good situation for any child to be in and it’s a stressful one to expect a pregnant man to cope with.”

            “I don’t want him taking the baby back to Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix tortured Hermione there.”

            “You can’t keep him and the baby here Harry; not when you don’t want either of them. It’s not fair to Draco and it’s not fair to the baby.”

            “I do want the baby! I told Malfoy I’d pay him child support and when it’s older, I’ll take it to the park for walks.”

            “You sound like you’re talking about a crup.” Molly looked at Harry sternly, her eyes boring into him.

            “Urgh! I’m trying Molly, honest, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t have a dad; I never knew my dad and I don’t know what I should do to be a good one.”

            “You’re getting ahead of yourself Harry; the baby isn’t here yet. For now, what you need to do is to take care of Draco. Dromeda and I can help you out with that until you figure it out and it sounds like Narcissa Malfoy was here Sunday doing just that. Blimey Harry, when he asked me what to do about nausea Saturday I had assumed he was already on the anti-nausea potion; you really should have had him on it all this time and it’s a good job his mum came by with it and the nutrient potion.”

            “I’d really appreciate you and Dromeda helping out, but isn’t she too busy taking care of Teddy?”

            “She can bring him along. It will be good for Draco to have company and to be around a baby; they seemed to get on well Saturday.”

            “Yes, they did. What were those things you said I need to be doing for Malfoy again?”

            “Harry, you need to start calling him Draco. He told me he asked you to start calling him by his first name, but you wouldn’t.”

            “Sorry, it’s just hard to get used to calling him that, when he’s been Malfoy for the last seven years.”

            “Well now’s the time to change that.”

            “Alright, I’ll start calling him Draco.” Harry forced Draco’s name out, but it sounded odd to his ears.

            “That’s a start dear. And you need to buy him his own toiletries. Did you see the rash he’s got from your soap?”

            “No, what rash? What’s wrong with my soap? He never said anything.”

            “He never said anything, because your products are muggle made and he thought you would be mad if he came to you and said he was allergic to something muggle. He doesn’t know which product it is or which ingredient it is, because he’s never used muggle products before, but he’s definitely allergic to something. He told me he’s been trying to stick with cleaning charms and has been avoiding the products, but he wanted to look nice for his mother, so he broke down and used them once this weekend. He’s got an itchy rash behind his ears, on the back of his neck, and all over his legs.”

            Harry had purchased all of his toiletries from muggle retailers, because it was easier to shop in the muggle world, where he wasn’t famous. “So what kind of soap do I need to get him? Hypoallergenic or something?”

            “Just take him to a regular wizarding shop and let him get what he typically uses. He doesn’t know what he’s allergic to, so it’s best to stick with something he knows is safe.”

            Harry agreed. He didn’t want to be seen in wizarding public with Malfoy—Draco, but he figured he could just get Draco to write down a list of the products. “Alright, I’ll let him pick the soap and stuff. Anything else?”

            “Take him to the grocery store and let him pick out some of his own food.”

            “Kreacher does the grocery shopping; I’ll just tell Draco to tell the elf what to get.”

            “Alright.”

            “Molly, I think the carrots are burning!” Draco called from downstairs.

            “Spell the fire off then!” Molly called back. “Come on; let’s go have dinner.”

            Harry and Molly went downstairs and passed by Kreacher, who was muttering under his breath about blood traitors kicking him out of his own kitchen.

            They ate dinner together and the carrots were only a little burnt. Afterwards Harry promised to take better care of Draco and Molly left. Harry pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink and deposited the items in front of Draco in the drawing room. Draco had had his knitting out, but he put it to his side and looked up at Harry.

            “What’s this for?” Draco asked.

            “A shopping list. Write down what soaps and food you need and I’ll send Kreacher to get them,” Harry said. He knew Molly had wanted him to take Draco out to go shopping, but this would work out loads better for him.

            “Okay.”

            “And I want to talk to you about what I said Sunday night.”

            “There’s no need. I got the message; you don’t want me and the baby around. We’ll be out of your hair and never bother you again once the Ministry lets us go. So if you would just talk to your boss about arranging for my charges to be dropped, I’ll be on my way. I won’t ever bother you again and I can raise my baby on my own. You don’t have to like the baby or be part of the baby’s life; you only have to let the baby exist and not actively do harm to him or her.

            “No, er, that’s not what I wanted to say.”

            “The noble thing to do is to leave us alone. Does your hero complex not apply to me and my child? Maybe it works on everyone except Malfoys.”

            “Urg, just be quiet and listen will you.” Draco nodded and was quiet, so Harry continued. “I didn’t mean what I said; I’m sorry. I’m not going to hurt the baby or anything.”

            “Thank you for that. I’ll make your list.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco didn't have much of a talk, so I think they'll have to have another one soon. What do you think Draco is thinking and feeling? And how much of it should he share with Harry?


	10. Chapter10

            Harry sent Kreacher to the store to buy Draco’s requests and things went back to how they had been, except that Draco smelled better and wasn’t vomiting on a daily basis. Draco’s soaps were plain with Shea butter extract and no other additive; they smelled good and Harry could see the advantage of simplicity for someone with skin allergies. The foods Draco bought were all health foods, which Harry had to admit, were probably good for someone who was pregnant to be eating. And Draco stopped casting the muffling charm on his room, so Harry woke up when Draco had nightmares again. Draco’s nightmares were slightly less frequent, although they still occurred several times a week.

            Molly came over while Harry was at work to keep Draco company every day that week. When Harry came home each night there was evidence that Molly and Draco had been cooking and knitting together. Whatever it was Draco was knitting was slowly growing longer and each night there was another one of Molly’s delicious recipes on the table. There was even a dirty nappy in the rubbish bin once, indicating Dromeda and Teddy had been over. When Harry questioned Kreacher about it, the elf confirmed Harry’s suspicion and added that Cissy had been with the women as well. And the following day there was even more evidence that Black women had been in the house.

            Harry came home Thursday to find a handsome looking painted man with a striking resemblance to Sirius in Sirius’ mum’s portrait. The two had been holding hands, looking into each other’s eyes, and snogging when Harry walked in the front door. They separated their oil painted lips to look at Harry and then the man greeted Harry warmly and Sirius’ mum even gave him a bit of a wave.

            Harry went upstairs and asked Draco about it and he explained that Cissy and Dromeda had brought their mother over and the three Black women had had a chat with Walburga’s portrait. The women thought that Walburga was lonely and out of touch with reality, so they brought over a portrait of Sirius’ dad. They hung it out of the way in a closet, but as long as it was inside Grimmauld Place, it would be able to share a frame with Walburga. Harry thought Walburga’s silence was welcome, but he was slightly revolted by the romantic relationship occurring in his entry way, so he covered the painting back up with the thick black curtains. It was bad enough he still had to hear the snogging, giggles, and sensual whispers when he passed by.

            Draco had the women to keep him company during the day, but only Molly was ever there by the time Harry got home. She didn’t stick around for dinner or tell Harry off again, but instead she winked and smiled at Harry. He thought she was pleased to see that he was taking better care of Draco. Harry did his best to watch what he said around Draco and he was proud of himself with how well he was doing. Harry certainly didn’t make Draco cry again.

            Harry threw himself into his work and spent his evenings thinking these days. With each passing day, the idea that the baby was a real person grew stronger in his mind, taking root and permeating his thoughts. It happened gradually over time, but every night when Harry was sitting in front of the fire contemplating the situation, he would think about Draco and the baby and what he wanted. Harry began to wonder how he could have been so determined to get rid of the baby before, because he no longer wanted to be rid of the baby at all.

            This pregnancy wasn’t just Voldemort screwing with Harry. It wasn’t just a result of Draco’s irrational feelings for an unwanted parasite. There was a baby, a real human baby, growing and coming into existence. And it wasn’t just any baby, but it was Harry’s baby. Sure Harry could walk away and leave Draco to raise the baby on his own, but Harry began to think he didn’t want that. This baby could be the first authentic family member Harry has ever had. Yes, Harry had the Weasleys, Hermione, and his other friends as his adopted family, but this baby would really and truly be his family.

            Harry hadn’t yet thought about how Draco fit into this picture that was forming in his head. It was enough for him to contemplate having the baby in the picture; he couldn’t fathom Draco in it too. Sure Draco would be there and take care of the baby, but then when the kid was older, Harry could take it for a few hours on the weekends. They could go flying or to the park together. One thing that Harry knew for certain was that he wouldn’t abandon his child.

            Harry knew what it felt like to be abandoned. Even if the baby wouldn’t be completely alone in this world because Draco and Cissy would always be there to love it, Harry still couldn’t stand the thought that his child would feel unwanted or uncared for by Harry. His child wouldn’t feel even a fraction of the pain he had felt growing up with the Dursleys. His baby would feel loved. Maybe they wouldn’t be the typical happy family, but they could still be a happy family. Maybe he and Draco could finally learn how to share.

            And maybe Harry could find a witch who would still have him, even with a child. Sure Ginny had dumped him, but there were loads of other witches out there. He regularly received requests for dates and the occasional marriage proposal. The photographers waited outside the Auror department in hopes of catching a glimpse of him for the papers. His name was still mentioned in every single Daily Prophet. He was a hot item right now and maybe that fame would mean another chance at love with someone who was more understanding about his situation with Draco and the baby than Ginny was.

            The more Harry thought about the baby, the more he realized that he needed to talk to Draco about it. Draco was the other parent and if they were to share a child, they would need to talk and come to some sort of agreement with regards to the baby. Draco was staying with Harry for now, but that was because he was legally required to do so. What would happen if the charges against Draco were dropped? Would Draco leave, take the baby with him, and never let Harry see the baby again? Harry didn’t know, but he knew he had to find out; he couldn’t put this discussion off any longer.

            Saturday night after dinner Harry and Draco walked back up to the second floor together. Draco made to continue on to his room, but Harry stopped him.

            “Draco, can we talk?” Harry asked.

            “Yes, what about?” Draco asked, following Harry into the drawing room.

            “The baby. I know you’ve decided to keep it and I want to know how that’s going to work. We’re living together now, but that might not always be the case. Odds are that you’ll eventually be cleared of all charges and will be free to go. What will you do then?”

            “I’ll go back home to the Manor with my mother. I know you don’t want the baby, so you don’t have to worry about me fire-calling you for help or anything. I’ll have Mother to help me with nappy changes and midnight feedings and I don’t need your money either. I won’t tell the child you abandoned us or anything like that. In fact, I won’t even tell him you’re the other father if you don’t want me to. You can marry some witch and get on with your life.”

            “No, that’s not…urgh…why is this so hard?” Harry asked rhetorically.

            “I imagine it has to do with being raised by muggles. Muggleborns do have a certain lack of eloquence that you seem to also possess.”

            “Not helping.”

            “Alright, I’ll just sit down and wait for you to come up with something to say,” Draco said, sitting down on the old sofa and waiting patiently.

            Harry paced back and forth a few times while he tried to formulate what he wanted to say. “Look Draco, if you’re having this baby then it’ll be mine too. I’m not going to turn my back on it and pretend like it doesn’t exist. I’ll give you child support, but I want visitation in return. I’m horrible with babies, so maybe at first I can visit it at your house or something. But once it can talk and stuff, then I’d like to have it come over here on weekends. I could take it to the park and stuff. Would you be okay with that?”

            Draco stared at Harry with his mouth hanging open and one eyebrow raised for half a minute before he asked, “Are you having me on?”

            “No, I’m not. I’m serious Draco.”

            “This isn’t your idea of a laugh?”

            “No, it’s not, I swear. I know I was a bit of a jerk before, but now I think that was selfish of me. I wasn’t thinking of it as an actual human being before. Now that this baby is definitely coming, everything has changed. I won’t abandon it or let it think I don’t care.”

            “Let me get this straight: last week you wanted me to get an abortion, but now you’ve changed your mind and want the baby?” Draco asked incredulously.

            “Yes.”

            “And I suppose next month you’ll want us out of your life again.”

            “No. I was being selfish and short sighted before; I definitely want the baby now.”

            “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you right away.”

            “What’s that mean? Are you saying you won’t let me be part of my kid’s life?”

            “Not necessarily. I’m saying that if you change your mind again it will be better for the child if you weren’t in its life at all. I won’t have you popping in and out and leaving me with a crying baby. I don’t want him or her wondering where you are and why you don’t love them anymore.”

            “It’s not going to be like that, I swear. I’m not going to change my mind again. Will you please let me be involved?”

            “If you can prove to me that you are stable in your desire to be a father to our child, then yes, you can be a part of their life. But that means that you can’t change your mind between now and when the baby comes or you’re out. I won’t have my child emotionally damaged because you can’t make up your mind.”

            “I don’t want that either. I want to be a good dad.”

            “I’m glad to hear it,” Draco said and now he smiled. It was a huge genuine grin that lit up Draco’s face and Harry thought it made Draco look so much more appealing.

            “I want us to be friends too. I don’t see how we can raise a child hating each other.”

            “I already told you Harry, I don’t hate you. Do you hate me?”

            “Not so much anymore. Do you think we can try being friends Draco?”

            “I already offered you my friendship. I was always willing to try.”

            Somehow Harry couldn’t believe that. During their very heated six years of school rivalry, he had trouble imagining that they could have stopped fighting with each other and become friends. But that was before, back when they were kids. Now they were adults and they had a child at stake. Maybe they really could put their differences behind them and cultivate a friendship, for the sake of their child. It didn’t matter that they weren’t a couple, just as long as they both loved their child and did what was in its best interest.

            “Good, let’s start now. We can start over from the beginning,” Harry said.

            “Alright.”

            Harry held his hand out and said, “Hello, I’m Harry Potter, it’s nice to meet you.”

            Draco rolled his eyes, but shook Harry’s hand. “The name is still Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank every one who has reviewed this story so far. I'm not planning on making this story super long, so I think we're already around the half way (or at least the one third way) point on this story. I think Hermione and Ron will stop by next.
> 
> Please Review!


	11. Chapter11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank you all for your support and reviews! Please continue to let me know what you think :)

            Sunday Ron and Hermione came over. Draco avoided Harry’s friends, mostly sticking to his room and only coming out to use the restroom and fetch things he’d left in the drawing room, such as a pregnancy book and his knitting. Hermione’s eyes followed Draco every time he popped into view and Harry could tell that she wanted to know how things were going, but she kept silent on the subject. Instead she had started off with giving them updates on Hogwarts and their old professors. Then Ron had gone on about what he’d been doing with George and the newly reopened joke shop, which was taking Ron, Ginny, George, Angelina, and Lee to man in order to keep up with the back-to-school demand.

            And now Ron was dominating the conversation, with his obvious excitement for his and Hermione’s upcoming trip to Australia. Hermione had sent her parents away and it was time to get them back, before Hermione’s planned return to Hogwarts in September. Ron thought it was rotten luck that Harry couldn’t go with them and had to stay to watch Malfoy, but Harry secretly didn’t mind not going, because he didn’t fancy being the third wheel. Harry was sure that this was going to turn into a romantic holiday for the two lovebirds and he wasn’t fond of watching his two best friends make out; that was almost as bad as when Sirius’ parents’ portraits did it.

            “We’ve got a pair of tickets to a local Quidditch match, a car rental lined up for a two day drive in the country, and tickets to that museum…what was it again Hermione?” Ron asked.

            “Indigenous Cultures and Art, featuring works by ancient Australian Aboriginal witches and wizards. I’ve been reading all about the subject; it’s quite fascinating,” Hermione said and then started telling Harry and Ron all about it, with a surprising amount of enthusiastic input from Ron.

            Hermione was interrupted by an owl at the window, which Ron quickly jumped up and let in. “Do you think this is that reply back from your parents Hermione?” Ron asked as the bird flew inside the drawing room.

            But the owl wasn’t for Ron or Hermione, nor was it for Harry. Instead, it flew down the hall and pecked on Draco’s door; being a large townhouse in London, Draco’s room didn’t have a window of its own. Ron was already up, curious, and followed the owl closely. Hermione looked at Harry, Harry shrugged, and then they too got up and followed the owl to Draco’s room. Draco opened his door and retrieved a rather thick parcel from the owl. Before Draco could close the door again, Ron stuck his foot into the jamb to prevent it from closing and grabbed hold of the edge of the door.

            “Whatcha got there Malfoy?” Ron asked suspiciously.

            “I’m not sure; it appears to be from my mother, but I haven’t opened it yet,” Draco replied coldly, but in a civil enough manner.

            “Harry, you can’t be letting him have private conversations with known Death Eaters right under your roof; you have to inspect it first!” Ron proclaimed.

            “My mother is _not_ a known Death Eater, Weasley,” Draco said with a sneer.

            Harry looked to Hermione for help, unsure of what to do. He’d been letting Draco communicate with whoever Draco wanted, but the envelope was over an inch thick and it was possible that it contained something dangerous.

            “Boys, we are all adults. Malfoy, would you care to come into the drawing room while you open that? If it’s papers from you mum, like you said, you can take it back to your room. If it’s something dangerous, we’ll be able to dispose of it for you,” Hermione said.

            “I’m not familiar with muggle customs Granger, but in my family people don’t tend to send pregnant relatives dangerous parcels via owl,” Draco said, but stepped out of the room, past Ron, and walked towards the drawing room. “It’s a wonder there are so many muggles in the world with their custom of sending explosive letters to pregnant people.”

            “That’s a very thick parcel Draco; what if it’s not from your mum? What if someone just wants you to think that it’s from her?” Harry asked, ignoring Draco’s jibe and following Draco back to the drawing room. Hermione and Ron were behind them.

            “That was my mother’s owl, Harry, and the label is in my mother’s writing. It’s safe,” Draco said, sitting down and pulling out a thick stack of parchment from the envelope.

            “Well, what is it?” Harry asked expectantly.

            “Custody paperwork. It seems our family attorney, Mr. Rosier, is still in business and put together this paperwork at my mother’s behest.”

            “What sort of custody paperwork?” Harry asked skeptically.

            “Give me a minute to read her note to find out,” Draco replied.

            That seemed reasonable, so Harry agreed. He motioned to Ron and Hermione and had them follow him into his bedroom down the hall to fill his friends in on the Draco situation. Ron didn’t seem interested in the details and kept cracking open the door to check on Draco. After the third time, Harry gestured with his hand for Ron to just go out there and keep an eye on Draco, since Ron didn’t seem to trust Draco with a stack of parchment. Harry didn’t see what harm could possible come from parchment, so he stayed in the room and continued to talk to Hermione. Hermione was very interested in all of the details of the Draco situation and probably would have kept Harry in that room talking about it all day, if they weren’t interrupted by Draco’s voice from the drawing room.

            “Harry, you can come back now and call off your guard dog; I’ve read the letter from my mother,” Draco said.

            And so Harry and Hermione went back into the drawing room and retook their seats.

            “Well, what is it?” Harry asked.

            “My mother had Mr. Rosier draw up documents for you to sign over your parental rights of my baby to me. These would free you from all responsibility towards my child and allow you to go about your life as if you weren’t the father. Basically it’s like a partial adoption, with one parent giving up all rights and responsibilities and the other parent taking all of them. You wouldn’t have to pay child support and the child would have no claim to inherit anything from you,” Draco said.

            Ron nodded, seemingly in full support of this idea. Hermione’s lips were pursed in disapproval and Harry could tell she was moments away from turning a disappointed glare on him.

            “No, I’ll not agree to that. I told you last night I want visitation,” Harry said.

            “Yeah, and you have to be careful or your kid will be raised as a pureblood Death Eater,” Ron said, suddenly flopping to the other extreme.

            “Oh, is that a condition that runs in your family Harry? I’ll have to tell the healers about that and get the baby checked,” Draco said snidely.

            “Ron, honestly, Malfoy isn’t going to raise Harry’s child to be a Death Eater, are you Draco?” Hermione asked.

            “No, I’d rather my heir didn’t end up in Azkaban. My father has bad things to say about the place,” Draco replied, holding his head up high and trying to maintain his dignity. “Bad reviews, no five star accommodations, and not worthy of a Malfoy.”

            “Right, so back to this custody agreement; I won’t sign it. Why’d you even have your mum get whoever to make it, when I told you I want visitation?” Harry asked Draco.

            “You only told me that last night and I haven’t had the chance to write my mother with the news yet. Truthfully I wanted to wait a couple of weeks and see how often you change your mind, before I tell my mother anything. I asked her to make this up after you told me you didn’t want the baby at all last week. If you really have changed your mind for good, I’ll have her contact Mr. Rosier again and draw up joint custody documentation accordingly,” Draco answered.

            “You do that; I’m not changing my mind again,” Harry insisted.

            “Are you sure about that? I bet that Jennifer Weasley would take you back if you signed these. She probably just doesn’t want my child taking all of your money and being your first born heir. You could still marry her and have a dozen red haired Weasley children,” Draco said.

            “My sister’s name is Ginevra,” Ron corrected with a scowl.

            Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, tempted by Draco’s offer, despite his desire to do right by this baby. If there was a possibility that Ginny really might take him back, then he couldn’t help but to consider it.

            “No, I don’t think that will happen. I’ve talked to Ginny, Harry, and she won’t even consider it, unless Malfoy has an abortion. She seems to think that you’d never be able to turn your back on your own child,” Hermione said.

            “She’s got that right, at least,” Harry said.

            “I’ve talk to her too mate; I don’t think your chances of getting her back are any good,” Ron said honestly. Regardless of what Malfoy was playing at, Harry was still his best friend and deserved to know the truth.

            “Honestly Harry, I think she was more in love with her idea of you, than actually you. You’re better off without her,” Hermione said.

            “And she’s moved on; that Michael Corner started coming back around,” Ron said.

            “Well that pretty much settles it; I’ll just keep my parental rights to _my_ child and find a witch who will take me with child support payments and weekly visitation,” Harry said.

            “Suit yourself, but excuse me if I don’t send my mother out right away to have the papers drawn up,” Draco replied.

            “Harry, you shouldn’t let his attorney draw up the papers; what if he does something sneaky and underhanded?” Ron asked.

            “Well if you’ll just excuse me, I’d rather go back to my room than listen to your friend’s idiocy,” Draco said, getting up and taking his packet of parchment with him.

            Draco was almost to his room when Ron asked in a carrying whisper, “Did you ever find out what he’s playing at mate?”

            Draco turned back around and glowered at Ron. “I know you are thick Weasley, but Harry’s boss told him what I was playing at before Harry even came and got me from St. Mungo’s. Since I know your mental abilities are lacking, I’ll spell it out for you. I am pregnant. The only thing I’m playing at is trying to bring a new life into this world. I know your father didn’t place the burden of producing an heir upon your shoulders, but in my family it is considered an honor,” Draco said, before storming back off to his room once more.

            Draco shut the door loudly behind him and then Hermione said, “You really shouldn’t have said that Ron. You’re causing him more stress and that can’t be good for the baby.”

            “Yeah and I’ve been watching him for almost a month now; he’s really not up to anything this time,” Harry said. He never thought he would be the one saying that, but there it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there’s Ron and Hermione. I think next chapter the story will break in the papers. What do you think Rita Skeeter will have to say?


	12. Chapter12

            Harry knew he couldn’t keep Draco’s pregnancy from the papers forever, but he never thought that it would be Ginny who would blab. But Ginny it was, because the Prophet ran an article with Ginny’s interview two Sundays after Ron and Hermione left for Australia. That prompted Harry to take another trip over to the Burrow, but this time he left Draco behind. He wanted an explanation from Ginny, but what he got was a fight. It was a loud angry fight that was broken up by Arthur and Molly. Molly had then dragged Ginny inside by the ear to talk, while Arthur had taken Harry to the shed.

            Arthur pulled out a muggle cd player and began to fiddle with it while he listened to Harry’s explanation of what happened. Then there had been a long rambling lecture filled with strange metaphors about the doxies and the hippogriffs, but in the end the message was something about letting failed relationships go _before_ you claw each other’s eyes out. Harry was still livid in regards to Ginny and the Prophet article, but somehow his anger seemed childish and immature in front of a cool, calm, and collected Mr. Weasley. He ended up apologizing to Arthur and asking Arthur to give his regards to Molly, because he didn’t think he could handle seeing Ginny again at the moment without exploding at her.

            Harry returned to Grimmauld Place in a worse mood than he’d been when he left and Ron and Hermione weren’t even on this side of the globe to talk to. Harry was sure that Draco would have something to say when he returned, but Draco didn’t say anything. Draco was busy reading a pureblood pregnancy and parenting book in the drawing room and didn’t pay Harry’s foul mood any notice at all, which made Harry even madder. He wanted to rage and take this out on someone, anyone, but instead he stalked off to his room and flopped down on his bed, burying his face in his pillow.

            Harry was still bristling with anger later that night when he and Draco were eating the usual elf-cooked dinner.

            “Pass the salt?” Draco asked.

            “Get it yourself,” Harry replied.

            “Alright,” Draco said and got up to retrieve the salt from right next to Harry’s hand. “What’s your problem Harry?”

            “My problem is that my girlfriend dumped me and told the papers that I’ve been buggering you, that’s my problem!” Harry lashed out.

            “I’m not exactly happy with that article either, but you don’t see me taking it out on you.”

            “And what do you have to complain about? I thought you said you wanted the public to find out about this, because it’d help you get off.”

            “I didn’t exactly want to be seen as a slutty home wrecker.” Draco put his fork down, clearly upset.

            Ginny’s interview hadn’t painted a pleasant picture of Draco and Draco did come across as a total slag in the article.

            “Come off it. You said yourself that you wanted people to think we’re together. You got what you wanted. How else did you think it’d turn out?”

            “Not like this,” Draco said getting up from the table, before going upstairs to his room.

            Harry looked at Draco’s unfinished dinner on the table. Part of him felt bad for taking his frustrations out on Draco, especially because they had been getting on lately. They had agreed to try to be friends, for the sake of the baby, and Draco had been putting forth the effort. But Harry wasn’t thinking about his resolve to be civil with Draco at the moment; mostly Harry felt better for getting some of his anger off of his chest.

            Draco would probably sulk in his room for a while and be fine, so Harry turned back to his own dinner.

            Later, when Harry went upstairs to get ready for bed, he passed by Draco’s closed door and heard crying. It wasn’t loud, but there was a distinct snuffling sound. Harry sighed and decided that he probably ought to apologize to Draco, so he opened the door and found Draco crying on the bed, with his knees up to his chest and tears streaked down his face. Draco was showing a distinct baby bump these days, but it was still small enough for him to curl up on himself.

            “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you. I know you didn’t ask to be pregnant,” Harry fibbed. He had meant to take his frustrations out on Draco; he just hadn’t counted on Draco reacting this way. He probably should have seen this coming, but he hadn’t been thinking and had assumed that Draco would respond the way he always had at school: by pulling out his wand and hexing Harry. Harry would’ve been much happier with Draco hexing him. In fact, he was really starting to hate seeing Draco cry, especially when it was his fault; he was going to have to try harder to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

            Draco nodded, but didn’t say anything and kept on crying.

            “You know the article really didn’t come off that bad. It made me sound like a double timing bastard; you’re just my innocent victim.” Harry had been a bit surprised by that aspect of the article, because apparently Ginny blamed Harry completely and hardly aimed any of her viciousness at Draco, besides the bit where she called him a slag.

            “Everyone’s going to think I’m a slag.”

            “It’s not that big of a deal.”  
            “It is.”

            “Why? It’s no worse than being a Death Eater.”

            “So I’m the Death Eater slag? That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

            “No…Look, why don’t you explain to me why you’re so upset. What’s so bad about people thinking you’re a slag?”

            “I’m a virgin.”

            “Wh-what?”

            “A virgin Harry. I’ve never had sex. It seemed unfair before that I was pregnant and now everyone thinks I just threw myself at you. They probably think I’ve slept with half of the school.”

            “Blimey.” Harry hadn’t considered the possibility that Draco was a virgin. Sure he knew that Voldemort hadn’t bothered raping Draco to conceive this baby, but Harry had assumed that Draco and Parkinson had gotten busy plenty of times. “So you and Parkinson, er?”

            “Pansy’s a witch, Harry. She doesn’t even have the right bits to interest me.”

            Draco had mentioned being gay before, but Harry hadn’t really paid much attention to this news before now.

            “Pansy and I are just friends,” Draco clarified.

            “Right. Well I’m sure you’ll find some pureblood bloke to marry and settle down with,” Harry finally said.

            “No one’s going to want me after I have your baby.”

            “What do you want me to say?”

            “That you’ll tell the papers I’m not a slag.”  
            “I’m not going to tell the papers anything. It’s bad enough Ginny talked to them. I think they know quite enough of my personal life already, don’t you?”

            Draco nodded and since Draco wasn’t crying anymore, Harry decided to go back to his room to get ready for bed, which he did.

            That night Harry was woken up by Draco coming into his room, probably after having another nightmare. Harry hadn’t heard the screams, because he had been too deep in sleep.

            Draco looked rather pathetic as he went over to sit in the corner of Harry’s room.

            “Malfoy?” Harry asked, blinking open his eyes.

            “Draco,” Malfoy replied. “It’s bad enough that I’ve never slept with the father of my child; we can at least be on a first name basis.”

            “Fine, Draco, did you have another dream?” Harry hadn’t meant to call Draco by his last name again; it had just slipped in his sleepy state.

            “Yeah.”

            Harry could see the sweat gleam on Draco’s skin in the dim moonlight. Harry knew he should ask and then lead Draco back to Draco’s bed, but he was too tired and groggy. Instead he pulled back his covers and motioned Draco over. Draco crawled into bed with him and Draco rested his head on Harry’s chest. It was weird, but Harry was too tired to care. Instead Harry closed his eyes and drifted back off to sleep.

            Harry probably shouldn’t have invited Draco into his bed, because after that Draco began climbing into Harry’s bed at night on his own accord. Somehow having Draco in bed with him made him sleep better, so Harry didn’t say anything. He was too busy waking up feeling strangely refreshed and ready to start another day of work to care that he had spent the night in the same bed as Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think?
> 
> Harry’s birthday is coming up and that will provide the perfect excuse to get Harry and Draco out of the house and see what the wizarding world thinks about the Prophet article.


	13. Chapter13

            Harry came home from work on his birthday to find Draco lounging in the drawing room, still wearing his pajamas. This was unusual, because Draco was one of those people who always got dressed, even if he wasn’t going anywhere. And they were going somewhere: it was Harry’s eighteenth birthday and Molly was making a family dinner to celebrate. His birthday happened to fall on a Friday this year, so they didn’t have to worry about staying late and being tired in the morning. And best of all, Ron and Hermione were freshly returned from Australia with Mr. and Mrs. Granger; Harry couldn’t wait to see them and find out how things went.

            “Draco, why aren’t you ready? We need to leave for the Burrow. It’s my birthday dinner, remember?” Harry asked.

            “I’m not going,” Draco replied, not looking up from his knitting. It was getting longer and really starting to resemble a small blanket.

            “You’re not going? Why not? I know for a fact that Molly invited you.”

            “They’re your friends, not mine. I’m not welcome. You’ll have more fun without me.”

            “Nonsense. I want you there, so get dressed and let’s go.”

            “No, I don’t feel like it.”

            “And why not? If this is about Ron’s big mouth, I’ll have a talk with him.”

            “That’s a big part, but it’s not just that.”

            “Then what else is there?”

            “The Daily Prophet article.”

            “It’s just to be Hermione and the Weasleys; they all know that that’s a load of rubbish that Ginny planted.”

            “And then there’s Gin-nee Weasley. If the rest of the Weasleys are coming, then your ex-girlfriend will be there too.”

            “Not Gin-nee, it’s said like Jenny, but spelled with a G.”

            “Whatever.”

            “And Ginny’s not supposed to be there; I hear she has a date for the night and will be elsewhere.” Harry had inquired about Ginny with regards to this party, because after that Prophet article two weeks ago, and more specifically the fight he had with her after, he had no desire to attend a birthday celebration with her involve.

            “I’m still not going. You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t think the birth of the Chosen One is an event worth celebrating. You better hurry up and go without me or you’ll be late,” Draco said, still not looking up from his knitting.

            “Fine.” Harry huffed and went off to his room to change out of his Auror robes. If Draco was in a foul mood, Harry didn’t much fancy spending the evening with him anyway.

            Fifteen minutes later Harry apparated to the lawn outside the Burrow. He blinked a few times and then vigorously rubbed his eyes in disbelief at what he was seeing. The lawn was set up more like it had been for Bill and Fleur’s wedding than for a family dinner. There was a large tent erected and underneath it was a huge crowd of people chattering away. George and Angelina were on the other side of the lawn and looked to be setting up whiz-bangs, while Hermione and Fleur were setting up a table with a gigantic cake.

            Harry dismissed his earlier plans to enter the house, and instead walked closer to the gathering. He was just passing the chicken coop when he heard Ron’s voice and stopped.

            “-read it, but so? He’s still Harry,” Ron was saying.

            Harry edged closer, trying to stay hidden to listen in on what his friend was saying about him. There was a tall overgrown bush separating him from Ron and as he grew closer, he found a hole he could peak through. He saw Lee Jordon and Ernie MacMillan standing next to Ron.

            “But how did it happen? You’re his best mate, you must know,” Ernie said.

            “Yeah Ron, just tell us will you?” Lee asked.

            “Don’t know. Don’t _want_ to know,” Ron replied.

            “Come off it. He’s your best friend; you must be curious,” a fourth boy said. Harry could see a head of blond hair turned away from him and although he recognized the voice, he couldn’t place it.

            “Not really. It’s _Malfoy_ , isn’t it? I’m much happier not knowing how he got pregnant. Now if you want to hear about what I got up to with Hermione last night, I’d be more than happy to talk about that. Brilliant, it was,” Ron said.

            Harry certainly didn’t want to hear about what Ron and Hermione got up to without him. Eww; Hermione was practically his sister. And since Ron seemed to be capable of dodging the Harry-centric questions on his own, Harry decided not to interrupt them, for fear that the boys would start pestering him.

            Harry turned and started towards the main gathering again, feeling relieved as Ron’s voice disappeared into the distance behind him. Bill and Percy, who had just finished setting up a pair of kegs of Butterbeer, turned and saw Harry’s approach. They both rushed over, Percy offering his hand and Bill beating him to it by engulfing Harry in a hug.

            “Harry! Happy birthday!” Bill exclaimed.

            And that started off the greetings and well-wishing. Hermione and Fleur soon joined the queue, eager to get their chance with Harry, but Harry had to shake hands or exchange hugs with about a dozen of his friends and acquaintances first. It looked like everyone who had survived the war from their year in Gryffindor was there, along with everyone who had ever been on Harry’s Quidditch team with him, besides Cormac Mclaggen. Then there were all of the Aurors from the Ministry, all of the surviving Order members, and everyone who had been in Dumbledore’s army. There were a ton of people, but only about a dozen of them beat Hermione to the queue.

            Once Hermione finally reached the front of the li-ne, Harry grabbed her up into a big hug and asked his question into her bushy brown hair. “What’s all this?”

            “A proper birthday party for once. Now that the war’s over, everyone wanted to help you celebrate. Isn’t it wonderful?” Hermione asked excitedly. “Angelina and George are setting up the fireworks display. Ron’s inside helping Molly. There’s to be dancing and butterbeer too.”

            Obviously Hermione was not aware of the fact that Ron was behind the chicken coop explaining the intricacies of their sex life to a bunch of boys. Harry didn’t feel the need to enlighten her, so instead he said, “Yeah, it is. Thanks Hermione. I want to hear all about Australia.”

            “There’ll be time for that later. Now I believe the rest of the mob wants their shot at you.”

            Harry looked over Hermione’s shoulder, past her hair, and eyed the crowd. “Right, well stay with me then and we’ll talk once I get rid of everyone,” Harry replied, pulling Hermione to stand by his side and wrapping his arm through her elbow, to ensure she wouldn’t leave him to face the friendly mob alone. Sure they were all people he knew, but this wasn’t something he was used to. He had much more practice being the outcast and having his birthday ignored completely.

            “Of course Harry,” Hermione replied.

            And so with that settled, Harry turned back to the crowd. There were a great number of hugs, copious pats on the back, and a few dozen handshakes before the line started to thin. Towards the end, Ron, Lee, Angelina, and George appeared, apparently done with setting up their entertainment and gossiping. Harry hugged Lee and Angelina first, before turning to Ron.

            “This is absolutely _brilliant_ mate! Have you seen the load of presents you’ve got?” Ron asked.

            “No…” Harry replied.

            “Well they’re all over there, stacked on that table, aren’t they?” Ron asked, pointing at a table that was absolutely piled with wrapped packages and bags with colorful ribbons.

            “Whoa, that does look like a lot of presents,” Harry replied. It was probably more presents than he’d ever had in his entire life. Dudley would be jealous.

            “Well Mum did let on that your seventeenth birthday was marred by the war, so we thought we’d try again and do it right this time,” George said, pushing Ron aside to hug Harry himself. “Happy birthday mate.”

            “Thanks George,” Harry replied.

            There were just a few people left, but among them was Arthur Weasley. “Move aside so the rest of us can get our chance,” Arthur told his sons.

            “Sorry dad,” Ron replied, and shuffled to Hermione’s side.

            “We’ll talk later,” George promised with a wink.

            Then Arthur Weasley was at the front of the line, but instead of stepping forward, he stepped aside and said, “Go ahead Dromeda, Molly. Ladies first, I insist.”

            Dromeda, holding Teddy, and Molly seemed to be just joining the line, but they bustled forward all the same. Both women gave Harry a kiss on the cheek, while a ginger-haired Teddy smacked Harry’s cheek with a slimy hand.

            “Oh Harry dear, I do hope you like your surprise. I know I said it would be a small family celebration, but well, everyone wanted to come too and I couldn’t say no,” Molly said.

            “It’s great Molly, really,” Harry replied.

            “Harry, where’s Draco? I was hoping to get him to watch Teddy for me for a moment,” Dromeda said, looking around.

            “He didn’t come,” Harry replied.

            “Why not? I invited him,” Molly replied indignantly.

            “Said he didn’t feel up to it after the Prophet,” Harry answered.

            “Nonsense! Ginny’s out with Michael, so there’s no reason Draco can’t come,” Molly replied.

            “Molly, perhaps he doesn’t wish to be the pariah in this crowd. These people are Harry’s friends; Draco barely knows them,” Dromeda said.

            “Well Draco is part of the family now and it’s time everyone learns to accept that. Harry, you need to go back and get him,” Molly insisted. She had that serious look she wore when she meant business, as if she could see right through him.

            “Harry, you really should go back for Draco. He needs to get out of that house; keeping him coped up there isn’t really the best idea,” Hermione said.

            “Yeah mate, and I’ll keep my mouth shut this time, I swear. Mum threatened to shut it permanently if I don’t,” Ron added.

            “Too right, I did,” Molly replied. “Best remember that young man.”

            Harry caved to the pressure and went back to Grimmauld Place, where he found Draco locked up behind the bathroom door.

            “Draco? Are you in there?” Harry asked, sure that Draco was. He could hear the sound of running water and the light was on.

            “Yes, why are you back?” Draco asked through the door.

            “They’ve sent me back for you.”

            “Well you can just go back without me.”

            “Draco, it’s not just a small dinner party; Molly and Arthur have gone all out. It’s a huge celebration that you’ll not want to miss.”

            “I know and that’s why I want to miss it.”

            “You knew?”

            “Molly told me.”

            “And you still don’t want to go?”

            “Correct.”

            “Why?”

            “They’re not my friends; I’m the enemy, remember?”

            “You’re not the enemy anymore. You’re carrying my child.”

            “All the more reason for them to hate me.”

            “If anyone has anything negative to say, then I’ll put a stop to it.”

            “I’m a Death Eater and that party’s full of Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix. Are you forgetting my role in Dumbledore’s death?”

            “Are you forgetting that you couldn’t do it? That you lowered your wand?”

            “Fat lot of good that did; the old man’s still dead, isn’t he?”

            “Yeah, but not by your hand. Come on; this is the perfect opportunity for you to meet all of my friends and for me to set the record straight for anybody who’s got anything bad to say about you.”

            “You’re seriously going to stand up to all of your friends and proclaim my innocence?”

            “Yeah, I am.”

            “To all of it?”

            “What else is there? You saved our lives on Easter.”

            “I locked you in the cellar on Easter. I cornered you in the room of requirement during the final battle. I tortured under the Dark Lord’s orders. I witnessed a Hogwarts teacher being eaten by that bloody snake for Salazar’s sake!”

            “You had no choice on Easter or with following Voldemort’s orders. Granted I would’ve preferred if you didn’t follow me into the room of requirement, but Crabbe’s fire destroyed the horcrux and everyone but Crabbed survived—and well, Crabbe got what he deserved if you ask me—so no harm done. And you were just a kid; you shouldn’t have been put in that situation in the first place.”

            “I’m two months older than you.”

            “Right, well back to the point: it’s my birthday and I want you there.”

            “Why?”

            “Because you’re carrying my child! If we’re doing this, then we might as well get it over with. You can’t hide from everyone forever.”

            “Fine, I’ll go, but you better keep your word and defend me,” Draco replied and there was the sound of movement on the other side of the door.

            Draco had been taking a bath, so he was not at all ready to go. It didn’t take that long to dry off and throw on some clothes, but Draco didn’t share Harry’s ideas on the simplicity of getting ready. Instead Draco went through his usual egregiously long routine of grooming, styling his hair, and making himself look perfect. Harry was about to leave Draco and go back to the party alone, but he didn’t, because he had just spent so much effort on convincing Draco to go with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was planning on writing Harry’s whole birthday this week, but it’s already pretty long and I haven’t finished the rest. So I thought I’d post what I have and turn the rest into another chapter. Harry just promised to defend Draco to his friends, so who and what do you think Harry should defend Draco from? Or what else should happen once they return to the party? Any and all ideas are welcome!


	14. Chapter14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There! I finally finished the birthday party. What did you think?
> 
> Please Review!

            By the time Draco was finally ready and Harry side-along apparated them to the Burrow, it was already growing dark. The party tent was lit up with lanterns and disco lights, crisscrossing the dance floor. Most of the guests were on the dance floor and Harry spotted Ron and Hermione dancing next to Neville and Hannah Abbott. George was the first to spot Harry and Draco and he pulled Angelina Johnson along with him to greet them.

            “Hullo Harry! This party is going to be off the hook with all of the whiz-bangs I brought. It’s good marketing, of course, because I’ll get to show off all our latest merchandise. After seeing it at Harry Potter’s party, everyone else will just have to have it,” George said jovially.

            “That’s really great George; thanks,” Harry replied.

            “Um, Harry?” Angelina asked, glancing over at Draco, whose arm was still entwined with Harry’s from their apparition.

            “Uh, yes, er, Angelina, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is Angelina Johnson,” Harry said.

            “I know who she is,” Draco hissed into Harry’s ear, before turning to Angelina. “Johnson, it’s a pleasure to see you again. You as well Weasley.”

            “Malfoy, you’re looking radiant,” Angelina replied, eying the bulge under Draco’s robes and then the closeness and interlocked arms between Draco and Harry. “I thought that the article in the Prophet was just a bunch of waffle that Ginny made up, but I’m glad to see that you’ve found someone Harry. I’m happy for the two of you.”

            “Yes, well I just couldn’t resists dear Harry’s charm and the way he was always making it clear how little he wants me,” Draco said, pinching Harry’s cheek in a mockery of affection.

            “Angelina, we’re not together,” Harry clarified, brushing Draco’s fingers away from his face.

            “Yes, Harry was just reminding me of the fact that I am a prisoner and not free to use the floo by myself. He brought me here by side-along,” Draco said.

            “So what Rita Skeeter wrote about the two of you…last Easter?” Angelina asked hesitantly.

            “Rubbish, just like everything else she writes,” Harry answered.

            In the days following Ginny’s article, there was a superfluous outpouring of articles on the subject of Harry and Draco’s alleged relationship. Among the offering was a ludicrous piece by Rita Skeeter in which she claimed that Draco’s pregnancy was the result of them having sex while Harry was held captive at Malfoy Manor. Harry had buggered Draco and then Draco had released Harry. It was all very star-crossed lovers, a reference which Draco hadn’t understood at first. That had led to Harry explaining Shakespeare, which was totally surreal; at least Draco had heard of William Shakespeare, even if he hadn’t heard of Romeo and Juliet.

            “Um, not all of it. I did release you from my home last Easter and this baby was made right around that time,” Draco said.

            “And how exactly did _that_ happen, Harry?” George asked with a big shit eating grin plastered on his face.

            Harry groaned and thought, _Not you too_.

            “It’s none of your business, Weasley,” Draco sneered, holding his head high.

            “Right, I think I’ll go with Draco on that one,” Harry added.

            Luckily the truth was so outrageous that no one believed it, especially when it was buried so deep under all of the rubbish published at the same time and was from a questionable source. The Aurors in the know were mum on the subject, as were the healers who had treated Draco. That left only one orderly who had overheard the nurses talking about Draco at St. Mungo’s to tell the story. Most folks thought the orderly was making it up and barely glanced at the piece in the back of the Prophet. And well, Harry was not about to set the record straight, because he didn’t want the wizarding world to know; it wasn’t any of their business how his child had been conceived.

            “And here I was thinking our little Harry was still a virgin,” George replied, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

            Luckily it was at this time that Molly announced that dinner was served. They all got in line at the buffet, Ron and Hermione coming up behind the group and joining them in the line.

            “How have you been Draco,” Hermione asked politely.

            “A bit better, actually. The morning sickness is pretty much gone now,” Draco replied.

            “That’s great!” Hermione hugged Draco and Draco patted Hermione’s back awkwardly with a flummoxed expression on his face, until Hermione pulled away again. “Everyone here is treating you alright, I hope?”

            “Alright, I guess. That Greg Weasley was asking about mine and Harry’s sex life,” Draco replied.

            Ron’s cheeks began to flare, as if he’d been caught discussing the topic too.

            “George,” Harry corrected.

            “Honestly, how do you expect me to keep all of them straight?” Draco asked indignantly.

            Ron sighed heavily and bit his lip, clearly struggling to keep his mouth shut over this.

            “Well George is the one that was on the Quidditch team with Harry, wasn’t he?” Hermione asked, trying to help Draco out. Draco nodded. “Then Bill is the one who got into the altercation with Greyback.”

            “Ronald’s the loudmouth git,” George added.

            “Percy’s the Ministry git,” Ron said, losing his battle with his mouth.

            “Charlie is never here, always off in Romania,” Harry offered.

            “Arthur is their dad; his hair is greying and he’s obviously older,” Hermione said.

            “Fred is dead,” George said solemnly.

            That ended that topic of conservation and they were already up to the food, loading their plates full of Molly’s amazing cooking. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Draco took their plates to a corner table, where they were joined by Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Neville’s date Hannah. Harry’s friends were curious as to what was going on with Draco and the pregnancy, but other than acknowledging that Draco was indeed pregnant by him, Harry didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, Ron and Hermione dominated the conversation with their recount of the events of their vacation. There had been a lot of fun, but also quite a bit of work involved with putting the Granger’s memories to rights. By the end, they had managed, the Grangers had remembered, Hermione had been forgiven, and the Grangers were in the process of moving back to Great Britain.

            Towards the end of the meal, when everyone was eating dessert, there was a lull in the conversation.

            “Longbottom, I wanted to thank you for killing that awful snake. I heard you fought my horrible Aunt Bella too; she was the second most despicable person I’ve ever met and I’m glad Molly killed her,” Draco said quietly, head turned towards Neville.

            Harry had to really strain to pick up Draco’s words over the sound of the party.

            “Um, you’re welcome?” Neville asked, unsure of himself. It wasn’t every day that Malfoy thanked him or acknowledged his worth in any way.  
            “And I know Professor Snape was proud of you. He and I were always trying to protect the students from the bloody Carrows. We couldn’t protect them all, but you and your gang really helped,” Draco replied.

            “Um, I was there and I don’t remember seeing you and Snape fighting against the Carrows,” Seamus put in from across the table.

            “Oh no?

            “No, whenever you were present you would turn and run away,” Seamus insisted.

            “And where I ran to was the headmaster’s office where I informed Snape of what was going on. Then Snape would step in to give the student in trouble an extra special punishment. But Snape’s extra special punishments were just detention with Hagrid, Flitwick, McGonagall, Sprout, or Slughorn,” Draco retorted.

            “Yeah, remember that time I was sure I was going to get it for freeing that group of second years?” Neville asked.

            “Yeah,” Seamus replied. “What of it?”

            “Well the Carrows were about to curcio me when Snape walked in, marched me by ear to his office, and set me detention with Sprout. Sprout was proud of me and the two of us spent our Saturday working in the greenhouse, which is something I would have done anyway,” Neville stated.

            “That one wasn’t me; that was Daphne Greengrass. There was a group of us patrolling the castle, watching the Carrows and reporting back to Snape,” Draco said with a shrug.

            “That was very noble of you Draco,” Harry said.

            “Yeah, um, really brilliant Draco. Er, Hermione, care to dance?” Ron asked.

            Hermione agreed and the two lovebirds went off to dance. Neville and Hannah followed shortly after them. That left just Harry, Draco, Dean, and Seamus.

            “Harry, I can’t sit here quietly anymore. I’ve been waiting all evening for you to explain, but you haven’t. I don’t know how you can stand being with _him_ after everything he’s done!” Seamus exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Draco. “Oh, sure, he helped protect students from the Carrows and now he gets to play the hero? I don’t think so! The real heroes are the witches and wizards who gave their lives standing up to You-Know-Who and fighting for what’s right!”

            “He was dating Lavender before, you know,” Dean said, offering Harry an excuse for Seamus’ behavior.

            “Lavender—now she’s a real hero—fought Greyback, she did. Was killed by him too,” Seamus added.

            Harry gaped at Seamus’ outburst, not sure what to do. Sure he felt bad about Lavender, but Draco hadn’t killed Lavender. Draco hadn’t even had a wand by that time.

            “I’m sorry for your loss,” Draco said solemnly.

            “You’re sorry? Lavender is _dead_ , but you’re _sorry_? I guess that just makes it all better, doesn’t it?” Seamus asked.

            “Seamus,” Dean said in a soothing voice, trying to get his friend to calm down.

            “No, Dean! I will not leave off. I’ve sat through this entire meal waiting for Harry to explain to us how this happened. How is it that you’re having a child with a _Death Eater_ Harry? He threw himself at you and Ginny wasn’t around, so you just cheat on Ginny, is that it? You don’t even pay attention to who it’s with or what he’s done? And forget about protection!” Seamus ranted.

            “Seamus!” Harry exclaimed, finally being pushed over the edge. At first he didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to be insensitive to Seamus’ feelings, but now Seamus had gone too far. Plus, he had promised that he’d defend Draco tonight. “First of all, it is _none_ of your business nor anyone else’s business how Draco and I created this baby. Second of all, Draco is _not_ Greyback. Draco didn’t kill Lavender or anyone else. Draco violated a direct order from Voldemort by not killing Dumbledore; he was lowering his wand, ready to let Dumbledore go that night on the tower! And he saved my life on Easter when he refused to confirm it was me, even though he definitely recognized me. He stalled, buying us time, and then when we made our break for it, he didn’t put up any real resistance.”

            “He saved my life that night; Griphook, Ollivander, and Luna’s lives too,” Dean said.

            “You’re taking his side?” Seamus asked Dean incredulously, indicating Draco.

            “Yes, I guess I am,” Dean replied.

            “Fine then,” Seamus replied with a huff, before storming away from the table.

            “I’ll go after him,” Dean said, before following after Seamus.

            “Thank you for defending me like that,” Draco said.

            “You’re welcome. I told you I’d defend you and I keep my word,” Harry replied.

            Draco nodded and looked down at his empty plate.

            There were several moments of silence at their table, before the party guests started coming over to chat. There were quite a few questions regarding Draco from the other guests. As before, Harry acknowledged the pregnancy, but refused to answer any other questions regarding the nature of their relationship. And Harry continued to defend Draco’s innocence when the subject came up.

            Harry was getting really sick of the questions when Parvati Patel, Padma Patel, and Susan Bones approached with more of the same. Sure it started out with, “Happy birthday, Harry!” and, “Congratulations on the baby!” but it wasn’t long before they got to the point with, “How long have you two been together?”

            “Harry, would you care to dance with me?” Draco asked, interrupting the girly chatter.

            “Oh, the two of them are just so cute together!” Susan Bones exclaimed.

            “Um, ah, er…” Harry stuttered, looking back and forth between the girls and their awkward questions, and Draco, who now had his hand out waiting to dance. “Ah, I can’t dance.”

            “I know that. I’ll teach you,” Draco replied.

            Padma and Parvati were looking at the pair with sappy expressions that made Harry want to hurl. When push came to shove, Harry chose taking Draco’s hand over staying there and continuing this awful conversation.

            They walked to the dance floor, but Harry pulled up short.

            “What? I thought we were going to dance?” Draco asked.

            “Look, you don’t have to dance with me. I know I’m awful and I only agreed to get away from those three,” Harry said.

            “Getting away from all of the questions was partly why I suggested it, but if we don’t at least look like we’re dancing, the interrogation is just going to start back up. Now I offered to teach you to dance and I meant it, so come on.”

            Draco pulled on Harry again, but Harry didn’t move.

            “Er, um, you do realize that we’re both guys, right?” Harry asked.

            “Very well spotted. You seem to be forgetting that I’m a flaming pouf, so you’ll do.”

            “Oh, a, well you don’t have to stick by my side. If there’s another guy here you want to dance with, it’s fine by me.”

            “Harry, have you seen anyone here asking me to dance?”

            “No…”

            “Precisely. This is your party and these are your friends, not mine. None of these people want to dance with me. Now can we dance or are you going to stall all night?”

            Harry was about to say the latter, but then he spotted Parvati, Padma, and Susan approaching. And worse, there were now another dozen witches with them.

            “Dance,” Harry yelped, and tugged Draco with him onto the dance floor.

            And that is how Draco ended up teaching Harry a few simple dance moves. Draco was a good dancer and a patient teacher. To Harry’s astonishment, Draco made Harry feel like he wasn’t halfway bad himself and really had him wanting to learn to dance. Plus, as long as they were dancing, the harpies were kept at bay. And it really wasn’t all that long before the music was shut off, the dance floor was closed, and the whiz-bangs started up.

            The rest of the evening went well, particularly because everyone was too busy watching George’s brilliant whiz-bangs display to be bothered with who Harry was or was not buggering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! I finally finished the birthday party. What did you think?
> 
> Please Review!


	15. Chapter15

            Harry was standing by the water cooler at work, talking to Auror Sanchez. Auror training was about to officially start and all of the new recruits had been assigned senior Auror mentors. Sanchez had just been informed that he got Ron Weasley and was therefore trying to pick Harry’s brain about his friend.

            “So he has some experience, yeah? He’s not going to freak and apparate away on me in the middle of a duel, is he?” Sanchez asked.

            “Ah, I don’t think he will. He’s always had my back and he’s—” Harry didn’t get a chance to say what Ron was, because at that moment there was a loud crack and Kreacher suddenly appeared. Human apparition in this part of the Ministry was restricted to Aurors, but elves were apparently exempt from that restriction.

            “Master Harry Potter, sir!” Kreacher exclaimed in his deep, bullfrog voice. “Master Draco Malfoy, sir, is unconscious!”

            “What happened Kreacher?” Harry asked alarmed.

            “Kreacher does not know. Master Draco Malfoy was in the potions lab brewing and now the noble sir is unconscious on the floor.”

            “He’s your ward, innit he?” Sanchez asked.

            Harry nodded to Sanchez and told Kreacher to go get Molly Weasley to help.

            “I’ll notify St. Mungo’s and then tell Robards,” Sanchez said.

            “Thanks, I gotta go,” Harry replied, before turning on the spot.

            Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place and ran at top speed towards the potions lab by the kitchen. He heard the pop of apparition and Molly’s voice, but he didn’t slow down to explain things to her. By the time Molly caught up with him, he was on the floor by the cauldron, pulling Draco’s limp body into his arms. Draco was still breathing and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him, so Harry looked up to Molly expectantly, hoping she would know what to do.

            “What happened, Harry?” Molly asked, bustling into the room.

            “I don’t know. I was at worked when Kreacher told me. He said Draco was brewing,” Harry answered.

            “He shouldn’t be brewing in his state! He’s four months pregnant for goodness sake!” Molly exclaimed.

            “Never mind that now Molly, we need to take him to St. Mungo’s!” Harry exclaimed. No one had mentioned anything to him before about pregnant people not supposed to be brewing.

            “Right, well we’ve got to get him past the anti-apparition ward,” Molly replied.

            Grimmauld Place still had an anti-apparition ward active on the inside of the dwelling from the war. In order to side-along apparate Draco to St. Mungo’s, Harry would have to carry Draco out of the potions lab, through the parlor, and out the front door. Harry tried to pick Draco up, but Draco weighed more than he did and that plan didn’t get very far. Then Kreacher appeared, pulling at his hairy ears, wringing his boney hands, banging his head on the floor, and saying what an awful elf he was for letting this happen to his regal master.

            “Kreacher! Enough of that; help me get Draco to St. Mungo’s,” Harry instructed.

            “Yes Master. Release the binding spell Master,” Kreacher said. Harry waved his wand, reversing the spell that bound Draco to the house. Then Kreacher reached out, wrapped his boney hand around Draco’s arm, and he and Draco disappeared.

            Harry stood speechless for a moment as he processed what had just happened.

            “Right; we have to follow them to St. Mungo’s,” Molly said forcefully, grabbing hold of Harry’s arm to pull him along with her.

            Harry jolted into reality and hurried along beside Molly, as they quickly made their way to the fireplace in the parlor. Molly grabbed a pinch of powder from the mantel and departed through the floo and Harry followed after her. When Harry stepped out of the floo at St. Mungo’s, Molly was already summoning help from an orderly and asking to be taken to Draco.

            “Just a minute madam and I’ll check the log to see if we’ve got him,” the orderly said.

            Molly nodded and released her clutch on the orderly, but followed the young wizard back to the log book, pulling Harry along beside her. Draco was indeed on the log book, so moments later they were journeying through hospital to the maternity and paternity ward to find Draco. Harry and Molly had to wait outside in the waiting room for an interminably long couple of minutes. But then a middle aged witch escorted them back to a room where Draco was lying on a hospital bed. Draco had a complex looking monitoring charm on him and although he was awake and propped up on the pillow, he still looked weak. Draco’s skin had a sickly pallor and his eyes kept blinking shut, as if the light was too bright.

            “Is he okay? Is the baby okay?” Harry asked frantically, running over to Draco.

            Molly followed behind Harry and turned her attention to Draco’s healer. The healer was a thin, reedy looking witch with a nametag that read Healer Stebbins.

            “What happened?” Molly asked.

            “Mister Malfoy feinted. According to the elf that dropped him off, he was brewing a potion, despite the inadvisability of doing so while pregnant. The heat and fumes combined with a touch of dehydration was likely the culprit. I’d like to keep him in here for a few hours more for observation, but he should be able to go home today, as long as he won’t be doing anymore brewing,” Healer Stebbins said.

            “Yes of course. I don’t know why Harry had Draco brewing in the first place,” Molly replied, turning an accusatory eye on Harry.

            “Well I didn’t tell him to do it! His mother brought him the potions ingredients!” Harry exclaimed, trying to defend himself.

            “What exactly was he brewing?” Healer Stebbins asked.

            “It was the nutrient potion, I think,” Harry answered.

            “I thought Cissy was supplying him with that potion,” Molly said.

            “No, just the ingredients,” Harry clarified.

            “While it is advisable for pregnant witches and wizards to regularly imbibe the nutrient potion, it is not advisable that they be forced to brew it themselves,” Healer Stebbins said sternly.

            “Alright, I’ll buy him some already made,” Harry said.

            “He never should have been making his own in the first place,” Molly said, raising an eye disapprovingly at Harry.

            “Well no one told me that!” Harry exclaimed. “And I tried telling him to buy it, but he kept insisting he wanted to brew it himself.”

            “Right, just as long as he doesn’t do so again. Now I’d like to notify his usual healer; who has he been seeing for his pregnancy?” Healer Stebbins asked.

            “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that Harry; Draco really needs to be seeing a healer regularly. Dromeda and I have been talking and she recommended Tonks’ old healer—Healer Mason; she’s part of the Order—and I’ve already scheduled the appointment. Granted there’s a list a mile long to get in, but I’ll take him in if you remove the spell binding him to the house for the day,” Molly said.

            “You have him bound to your house?” Healer Stebbins asked incredulously. “I’ll have to inform the Aurors about this.”  
            “I _am_ an Auror. He’s just under house arrest on suspicion of Death Eater activities until his trial,” Harry explained.

            “When is his trial?” Healer Stebbins asked critically.

            “Everything’s been really hectic at the Ministry. They’ve been concentrating on trying all of the really horrible Death Eaters first,” Harry said.

            “Are you telling me that the Aurors are holding a pregnant man without setting him a trial?” Healer Stebbins asked.

            “Well I was thinking that if we put it off everyone will just forget about trying him and let him go!” Harry defended himself.

            The truth was that Draco’s name had come up on the trial roster, but at the very end of November, which was right around Draco’s due date. Harry didn’t think it was a good idea for Draco to be in court that far into the pregnancy, so he had removed Draco’s name from the list. Harry hadn’t gotten around to putting it back on the list, because the court dates being assigned now were still too close to Draco’s due date. Plus no one had said anything and it was possible that no one had noticed.

            “Right. I would like to talk to my patient in private to ensure he’s being treated properly,” Healer Stebbins replied.

            Harry turned to look at Draco, whose eyes were closed in apparent sleep. “The baby’s okay?” Harry asked.

            “Yes,” Healer Stebbins answered.

            “We’ll just be out in the waiting room,” Molly said, jerking her head in the direction of the door to indicate that Harry should follow her.

            They sat down in the waiting room and Harry had the foreboding feeling that generally precedes a lecture.

            “He really should have seen a healer by now,” Molly said. “We need to start taking him on monthly visits for prenatal care to make sure the baby’s developing normally.”

            “Alright, as long as you can take him.” Harry agreed. “The official training program starts in two days and I can’t miss once it starts.”

            “Of course dear; I’d be glad to take him. I know you and Ronny will be busy with your training. I really must get Ronny to stop by and apologize to Draco properly for all of those nasty things he said to Draco before he left for Australia. He’s been back for weeks and every day it’s another excuse of why he’s too busy; he wasn’t too busy to make that poor boy cry, now was he?”

            “Erm?” Harry hadn’t realized that Ron had made Draco cry that day he came over with Hermione nor that Draco had told Molly about it. He had no clue how to respond. All he knew was what Ron had told him on his birthday that Molly had lashed into Ron about his insensitive behavior towards Draco.

            “I had half a mind to call him back from holiday when I found out, but then poor Hermione needed the support. And George did need the help with the shop when Ron came home and with Auror training starting he had a lot of errands that needed to get done first. Still, he had the perfect opportunity to apologize on your birthday, but he didn’t. Enough about Ron; we’re here for Draco and the baby. The healers should be able to tell the sex of the baby soon and that’s very exciting.”

            “Really?” Harry did find that prospect exciting. He would’ve been more eager to take Draco to the healer before now if he’d known that. Plus he was grateful for a change in conversation topic, because the last thing he needed was Ron finding out that Harry didn’t take Ron’s side in a dispute over Draco.

            “Yes dear. He’s in the second trimester now; he’s about far enough along to determine the sex. I’ve already made him an appointment and all I’ll need from you is for you to release the binding spell for the day, so I can take him.”

            “Yeah, I’ll remove it; just tell me when. I can’t thank you enough for helping me with Draco, Molly.”

            “You’re welcome dear, but I want you to start doing more for him too. He’s going to need new, larger clothes soon. He’s showing quite a bit these days and his old clothes are getting tight.”

            “Yeah, alright. What exactly does he need?”

            “A couple of paternity robes and pajamas should suffice.

            “Where do I get those?” Obviously popping into a muggle store was out of the question, because muggle men didn’t get pregnant. Besides, Draco would probably complain that he was allergic to muggle clothing too.

            “Madam Malkins can make him some.”

            Harry let out a sigh of defeat, thinking he would be seen in public shopping for paternity clothes with Draco. “Alright, so a trip to Diagon Alley should do it.”

            “Yes, but also you need to get him some more hobbies to pass his time. I’ve brought him some knitting and Dromeda and I stop by regularly, but we can’t be there all of the time. He’s read the only parenting book in the Black library and most of the leisure books as well, so you should take him to the bookstore and let him pick out a few things.”

            Harry agreed and Molly seemed to be done with her lecturing for the day. Harry was eventually allowed to take Draco back home to Grimmauld Place, but not before promising Draco would be taken to the healer appointment Molly had scheduled. The following day Harry went to Madam Malkin’s and arranged for the seamstress to stop by Grimmauld Place to fit Draco for paternity robes. It meant giving one more person the secret to his house, but the war was over and he’d been considering breaking the secret on purpose. It was only the fervent Potter fans he had to worry about keeping out these days. While Harry was in Diagon Alley, he stopped by the apothecary and purchased Draco’s pregnancy potions, before going back home.

            Harry did worry a bit that he was keeping Draco cooped up in the house too much, but he was starting Auror training and didn’t have time for outings, so he shrugged it off. And Draco wasn’t supposed to be out of the house for the next few days; he was supposed to be taking it easy and lying in bed to ensure his recovery. Madam Malkin coming to his house was much more convenient for both of them. Besides, Draco was getting new clothes, which was the task at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pregnancy is moving right along. Next chapter Harry will get to feel the baby kick :)


	16. Chapter16

Harry had taken to sleeping in his boxers and casting mild warming charms before going to bed. It was late August in London and still on the warm side at night, but he found that he liked it hotter now. It all had to do with the fact Draco almost always ended up in his bed before the night was out. Harry didn’t think it was nightmares that were waking Draco up anymore, because Draco rarely woke up screaming these days. Instead Draco woke up groaning and rubbing his back, indicating that it was the uncomfortable pregnancy waking him up. And for whatever reason, Draco seemed to sleep better in Harry’s bed.  
Harry wasn’t good with expressing his feelings to Draco, but to himself he had to admit that he found Draco’s presence comforting. Draco rolled over almost every hour, tossing from side to side. An active bed partner wasn’t normally conducive to peaceful sleep, but Draco’s tossing never really bothered Harry. Occasionally Harry would wake up missing his pillow and find that Draco had tucked both of their pillows underneath him, so that Draco could lie on his stomach, but typically Draco lay on his side and left Harry’s pillow alone.   
When Draco’s body was turned away from Harry, Draco tended to drift closer to Harry, until Draco’s back was up against Harry’s side. Then Harry would turn his back to Draco, and push his back up against Draco’s back, in a reverse spooning position. Harry thought it was safe to sleep like that, because none of their bits were touching. He didn’t think it counted as gay or encroaching on his old rival’s personal space. And that position led to what had to be the most comfortable sleep Harry ever had; it was warm, cozy, and relaxing. No matter how his muscles ached from long hours of physical training with the Aurors, lying with his back to Draco’s back always seemed to sooth his aches away.  
With a mild warming charm on the room and the fading heat of summer, Draco tended to get hot and kick Harry’s thin comforter off the bed. Harry secretly liked it when Draco did so, because it was the only time he ever got to see Draco’s body, and more importantly, Draco’s expanding stomach, with Harry’s growing child inside. They weren’t close enough in their burgeoning friendship for Harry to be able to look at Draco’s body during the day or touch the gentle swell, despite how much he longed to. Maybe Draco would have allowed a touch and maybe he wouldn’t have, but Harry didn’t know, because he hadn’t yet mustered the courage to ask. So instead he satisfied his curiosity while Draco was sleeping in his bed.  
Draco usually slept in a short-sleeved pajama shirt and a light pair of pajama bottoms. Although it was one of the new larger paternity shirts that Madam Malkin made, the shirt still tended to ride up Draco’s belly and rest on the top of the swell. On nights like tonight, when Harry woke up with Draco facing towards him, he had a perfect view of the taut pale skin that covered their unborn child. Draco kept it covered during the day, but at night, Harry could stare at it in the moonlight as much as he wanted to; touch it even.  
Harry very much liked reaching his hands out and caressing his forming baby. It didn’t matter that his baby was inside of Draco Malfoy, his boyhood nemesis and school rival; what mattered was that it was a new life forming right before his eyes and under his hands and that it was his child. Harry felt a surge of pride when he contemplated that it was his baby, somehow made from his body. He may not have been there for the conception or even known about it at first, but he still felt pride that he was involved and that a life was being made from his life.   
In the early morning hours, Harry was free to see the evidence of his baby’s growth, to touch it through Draco’s skin, and make contact. He reached his hand out, cupping the side of the obvious bump, and waited. Draco never said anything about the baby kicking him and for all Harry knew the baby might not kick much during the day, but at night, their baby kicked. The little ball of potential was very active while Draco was asleep and Harry didn’t have to wait long before he felt the distinctive movement of a limb jutting out of Draco’s soft belly.   
Harry had first noticed the movement a few nights ago when Draco had drifted closer to him, pushing Draco’s belly against his body. Draco’s shirt had ridden up and Harry wasn’t even wearing one. He had been stirred from his slumber by the gentle motion and had reached out in his groggy half-asleep state and rested his hand on the small bump. And then the baby had moved again and he had jolted awake at the sensation. That was his baby moving underneath Draco’s skin and it only took that one instance for Harry to be hooked.  
Tonight Draco responded to Harry’s touch by shifting closer, into it. Harry was convinced that Draco looked different in his sleep; innocent and approachable, while he was cocky and self-sufficient when awake. Sometimes Harry felt like a coward for not being able to confront Draco and ask to touch the baby while Draco was awake, but most of the time he didn’t think about it, instead concentrating on the awe he felt at the movement under his hand. He wondered things like if the baby could feel his hand. Maybe the baby was just trying to get comfortable in a tight space, but he liked to think the movement was specifically for him, because the baby knew he was there and wanted to play.  
Harry looked down at his watch and realized with a groan that it was later than he’d thought and already time to get up for work, being a Monday and all. But he had dinner with Hermione and Ron tonight, which he didn’t want to be late for, so he had to get to work early. If he and Ron finished their project early, they could probably skive off an hour early. And so he grudgingly retracted his hand from Draco’s stomach and crawled out of bed, being careful not to wake Draco.   
Ron also arrived at the Ministry early that day, so they worked all morning and were able to finish their two week long project just after lunch. Then they went back to their desk to clear up their mess; parchment scrolls and old books had to be returned to their proper place and the like.  
“This is bloody brilliant mate! Now I get to spend the whole afternoon with Hermione. The weekend was entirely too short,” Ron said, sorting through a pile of notes they had made.  
“And just think how proud of us she’ll be that we wrote an entire report ourselves, without her help,” Harry replied, tossing a freshly broken quill in the bin.  
“Yeah, we’re awesome, aren’t we? I suppose she really should be given the credit for this one; without all those years of forcing us to study and practically writing our essays for us we’d be as clueless as McDougal and Goldstein.”  
“Just do me a favor and don’t mention that while I’m there; I don’t fancy witnessing your intimate…ew…” Harry trailed off, horrified at his own disturbing thought.  
“You really think? That would score points with Hermione?” Ron was chomping at the bit at the idea, clearly enthused.  
“Yeah mate.”  
“Well then, I’ll tell her first thing when I get out of here.”  
“No! Don’t tell her until after dinner. Otherwise dinner will be all awkward and I’ll be the third wheel with you two snogging again...” Harry waved his hands around in the air, trying to convey how awful that was for him last time.  
“But you won’t be the third wheel, not when Malfoy’s there, will you? You can just not snog Hermione together.”  
“What?”  
“You know, if Hermione and I get…well you can just bugger off with Malfoy.”  
“First of all, I don’t think the mention of me should be in the same sentence with the word, ‘bugger,’ and Draco’s name. Second of all, he’s not coming; I’m leaving him at home.”  
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you Harry; Hermione won’t like it. She wants Malfoy there and flat out ordered me to be on good behavior. And well, it is her going back to Hogwarts dinner and if she wants a pureblood git there…” Ron was clearly whipped.  
“Why would she want him there?”  
“Because he’s having your baby and she wants to reach out the tendril of…Oh I forget what blarney she said, but it was something like that. Anyway, she found out from mum that he loves ice cream from some gourmet ice cream parlor in London. A muggle ice cream parlor where the ice cream isn’t churned by enslaved elves or anything… That reminds me, she found out that Fortescue’s uses elf labor, so their grand opening next week is out.”  
“But she wanted us to go to support his daughter taking over the business after he was killed in the war. She was all for Support the Restoration of the Wizarding World! And this one just happened to coincide with the best ice cream in Britain,” Harry protested. “And she won’t even be there! She’ll be off at Hogwarts by Saturday!”  
“Yeah, tell me about it. But still, it’s the grand opening and if I show up there with Harry Bloody Savior Potter, it’ll be in the papers and I’ll be found out.”  
Ten minutes later, they solved the minor Fortescue crisis by deciding that they would get George to purchase their ice creams for them and return to the joke shop, where they would be waiting to consume said treats. And in the meantime, they’d go to the muggle parlor tonight with Hermione and Draco for dinner.  
“Wait, Hermione really suggested we have ice cream for dinner?” Harry asked skeptically. “That’s not like her and I can’t say I’m okay with that when Draco’s coming with us. Your mum said he needs to eat properly. There was a very long lecture about it just last week.”  
“Oh, there’s a deli there too. They serve sandwiches and stuff,” Ron explained with a wave of his hand.  
That settled it and they had their mess sorted, so they just had the books and scrolls to return to the Auror’s Law Library. They were out of work in record time that day, which was good, because it was their last day to spend with Hermione before she leaves for Hogwarts. Ron went home to meet Hermione and spend a few last romantic hours with his girlfriend, while Harry went home to inform Draco that he was apparently required to go to dinner with them.  
Harry was surprised by how quickly Draco agreed to go to a muggle restaurant with a mudblood, halfblood, and a blood traitor, because he just said yes without a stitch of protests. That was odd in itself, but then there was the fact that this restaurant was supposedly one of Draco’s favorites. It was suspicious, given the Malfoy family’s aversion to muggles.  
“Wait, you’re agreeing to go with us, just like that? No protest that this is a muggle dining establishment?” Harry asked.  
“Yes, well my family has been going there all my life. That restaurant has been there for over a hundred years and my grandfather used to go there when he was a boy,” Draco replied.  
“Aren’t you worried that muggle food will be poisonous?”  
“No, the food there is good; bloody fantastic the way they make their ice cream from scratch right there in the shop. Maybe other muggle food is poisonous—you’d know better than me—but the only way this food will kill you is from a heart attack from all of the fat.”  
“This doesn’t make sense; how did the Malfoy family even stumble across a place like this, if you don’t go out into the muggle world?”  
“I don’t know; my great grandfather found it.” Draco shrugged.  
“Fine, just remember to wear baggy clothes; muggles aren’t used to pregnant men,” Harry said, letting the subject drop, for now. But he was still suspicious and resolved to keep an eye out while they were at dinner.   
“I promise to look like a muggle tonight. And if they ask, I’ll just tell them I have stomach cancer,” Draco agreed. Really he wasn’t all that big, so the bump could be easily hidden and Harry hoped they wouldn’t even be asked; people tended to keep to themselves in large cities.   
Harry had a few hours to kill, which he spent studying for the next Auror test. Later, just before dinner time, Harry released the binding spell and walked with Draco to the corner, where he hailed a cab.   
Draco seemed fascinated by the process at first, but then he turned a bit pale, leaned into Harry, and asked, “Are you sure this is safe? Taking a ride from a muggle?”  
“Yes, it’s fine. How do you normally get there?”  
“My mother used to take me by side along. It was never so terrifying.”   
Harry could see Draco’s knuckles had turned white with how hard he was gripping the handle on the door, but the cab ride only lasted a few minutes. Hermione and Ron were there waiting for them; Hermione with a large bag full of books.  
“Relax Hermione, school doesn’t start until the day after tomorrow. You’ve got all day tomorrow on the train to study,” Harry said, giving her a hug.  
“Ha ha, very funny Harry. These are for Draco; just some old novels of mine I thought he might like to read. I’ll get them when I come home for Christmas,” Hermione said, before letting go of Harry and hugging Draco. “And how are you and the baby Draco?”  
“Fine,” Draco replied stiffly, looking uncomfortable with the display of affection.  
“Oh! What was that?” Hermione asked, letting go of Draco’s shoulders and moving her hands to his baby bulge.  
“He kicked.” Draco shrugged.  
“The baby just kicked me! Oh my, this is so amazing. Harry, have you felt this?” And then Hermione was reaching for Harry’s hand, putting it on Draco’s belly, above the spot where the baby was kicking.  
Harry didn’t know what to say, because he didn’t want Hermione to think poorly of him for not noticing his own child kicking before and he didn’t want Draco to know that he had. So he kept quiet and nodded along with Hermione’s enthusiasm. As soon as she let his hand go, he pulled back and took the bag of books to have something to occupy his hands and make him look busy. He’d already gotten an owl order form from Flourish and Blotts and sent in for dozens of books, both pregnancy and parenting related and leisurely reading, for Draco. He’d let Draco pick them too, but you could never have too many books when you’re on house arrest.  
“I’m starving, let’s order. What’s good here?” Ron asked.  
The three friends turned to Draco inquisitively, given that he was the one who’d been here before. “They have this thing called a ham-burger, which isn’t made up of ham at all. It’s beef, chopped up and mashed back together, sort of like a meatloaf, but completely different-”  
It was then that Ron cut him off, “Yeah, we know what hamburgers are. Harry and Hermione already enlightened me.”  
“Well their ham-burgers are good and their ice cream is amazing. My favorite is this coffee and cheesecake flavored one with raspberries and caramel,” Draco said.  
And so the blokes all ordered hamburgers, while Hermione choose a sandwich. There were chips on the side for Ron and Harry, while Hermione and Draco had the salad. After they ate, Draco ordered a giant ice cream cone for himself, which appeared to be a mix of white and brown ice cream with ribbons of caramel and chunks of raspberries in it, while the other three went around sampling the various flavors.   
There were a ton of choices and after trying several good ones, Harry looked over to see that the other muggle in the shop, the owner, had gone over to their table to talk quietly to Draco. Harry wanted to know what was being said without them realizing that he was listening, so he decided just to ask for what Draco was having. Once he got the cold treat, he left Ron and Hermione with the other muggle to keep sampling, while he looked around for an excuse to get near Draco. He found one in a counter filled with pre-made ice cream sandwiches for takeout, which was on the other side of the store, only five feet away from their table.  
“Oh, I didn’t know they had ice cream sandwiches too! I wonder if they have them in that chocolate I liked…” Harry said, walking closer to their table, but with his eyes locked onto the ice cream sandwich counter. As he grew nearer the table, he veered closer to the counter, pretending to look at the display, while really he was listening to the muggle-owner.  
“-specting your mum to come ‘round when she did. It’d been over a year without a word and then she appears with the entire year’s worth of inventory? Don’t get me wrong, I was delighted, but I don’t have room to store any more of it and I haven’t gotten this bit sold off, so tell her to hold off for a while before bringing me any more. And I can’t pay her for it until I do get it sold,” the muggle said.  
“Yes, alright. We need the money though; we have legal issues.”  
“Yes, I would imagine so. I still can’t believe your dad’s in jail. He was always such a good, proper man. Never tried to cheat me out of so much as a pound.”  
“Maybe we’ll call you as a character witness then,” Draco replied and Harry could detect a hint of cheek in that statement. Harry could just imagine them calling a muggle to testify at Lucius’ trial…but then Lucius was accused of muggle torture and having an actual muggle friend testify might work in his favor; they could obliterate him afterwards.  
“I would be glad to. Like I was telling you before, my old man got in a spot of trouble once. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time; it could happen to anyone. That’s why I want you and your mum to know that my family is more than happy to continue doing business with yours and it’s not just the pounds. Don’t get me wrong, the pounds help, and we all know there wouldn’t even be a business arrangement if not for the profit,” the muggle said, giving away a lot of information.  
“Thank you, that means a lot to us. There are so many people who’ve turned on us since this legal case started,” Draco said.  
There was a slapping sound and Harry looked over to see the muggle’s hand on Draco’s shoulder. Then there was a handshake, before the muggle went back behind the deli counter. Harry looked towards the ice cream counter and noticed that Ron and Hermione had ice creams now, but were locked in each other’s gaze. In fact they had the look they get right before the snogging breaks out, so Harry turned quickly back away, choosing instead to join Draco at their table.   
Harry licked his ice cream and debated with himself for a moment with whether or not he should reveal that he was eavesdropping. He finally decided to go for it, his curiosity getting the best of him. “So what sort of business arrangement does your family have with this muggle shop?”  
“It’s nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re asking,” Draco replied, lapping up his ice cream eagerly.  
“Good, that’s great.” Harry thought about it for a moment while he ate. “It’s just that I can’t for the life of me see what sort of business arrangement your dad has with an ice cream parlor. Are you selling them milk or cream? A year’s supply of milk wouldn’t keep.”  
“No.”  
“Cows? Do they make their own hamburger too?”  
“No.”  
“Then what? Because everything else I can think of would violate the International Statute of Secrecy.” Harry and Ron had just reread that last week as part of their background research for their finished report.  
Draco sighed in defeat, before admitting, “We’re not selling muggles anything magical, I swear. It’s just that they use these little silicone chips that are bloody impossible to manufacture without magic. We’ve got one old elf turning the things out for practically nothing. The Ministry froze our accounts, so Mother took the lot of them to Mister Franks here herself. Mister Franks’ son works for a distributor of the chips and he funnels them into the muggle supply without anyone noticing the difference. Only with the war, Father didn’t dare contact Mister Franks and risk endangering our muggle contact, so these things have been piling up and Mister Franks needs some time for his son to deal with the sudden surplus.”  
“Silicone chips?” Harry asked in disbelief. The idea that the Malfoy family was a manufacturer of muggle electronics was just too surreal.  
“Yes, muggles use them to replace magic. They have this thing where they can owl each other, but with a device made using these chips. They write the letter in one place and the chip talks to another chip that talks to a third chip in the other muggle’s house. The third chip then makes the letter appear for the specified muggle. They call it electronics.”  
“Yes, I know about electronics and email, but I never thought that the great muggle hating Malfoy family would be making muggle computer chips.”  
“Well how do you think we get all our money? My mother has never worked and my father only worked part time.”  
“Seriously? What happened to filthy muggles?”  
“It’s easier just to blend in then try to fight it,” Draco replied with a shrug, taking a bite of the cone now that his ice cream was gone.  
“No, your father was Voldemort’s bloody right hand man! That isn’t just blending in with the crowd,” Harry whispered angrily, trying to keep his voice low enough that the muggles wouldn’t hear him.  
“Pureblood superiority and not marrying muggles, yes, my parents absolutely agreed with. Sacrificing a lucrative business deal just because it’s the muggles who are the ultimate consumers of the product; that isn’t the Malfoy way.”  
“So pureblood racism all the way, except when it interferes with your profit?”  
“Exactly. You’re catching on,” Draco said and Harry groaned. “Are you going to finish that?” Draco pointed to Harry’s half abandoned ice cream.  
“Shite. Hold on.” Harry had been trying to keep up with licking the drops off of his cone while he spied and talked, but now he realized that the treat was quickly thawing and in danger of toppling over. There was even a trail of cream running down the back of his hand he hadn’t noticed. He surreptitiously looked around the parlor noticing that one muggle had gone into the back and the other had her back turned, before pulling out his wand and casting a freezing charm. Then he asked the remaining muggle for a bowl and a spoon. He gave half of the ice cream to Draco, while eating the other half himself.  
“Oh and Harry?”  
“Yeah Draco?”  
“Please don’t tell anyone about this.”  
“Of course not. I wouldn’t want to ruin your family’s reputation.”  
“Thanks.”  
Later that evening, Ron and Draco went to watch the live display of the making of ice cream, while Harry and Hermione had a moment alone to talk.  
“By the way, one of the books in the bag is for you. It’s a book of wizarding fairytales,” Hermione said.  
“It’s not the Tales of Beetle the Bard, is it?” Harry asked.  
“No, it’s not. One of the tales is in fact the story of how wizards acquired the ability to give birth.”  
“And how’s that? Did you finally come up with the answer?” Harry asked eagerly.  
“I can’t be sure, but all of the references refer back to this fairytale. Apparently it’s the first written record of the phenomenon.”  
“And? What does the story say?” Harry had half a mind to pull out the children’s book and read it right here in the muggle establishment.  
“It says a gay man helped out a unicorn and in return, the unicorn granted the man’s deepest desire, for children. Now I’ve read a dozen different interpretations of this, ranging from the man buggered himself on a unicorn horn, as your Auror friend so tactfully put it, to the man developed a potion using unicorn horn to permanently alter his genetic make-up, to the story of the unicorn granting the wish literally happened. The first one can’t possibly be true, as we agreed before; not only is it impossible, but it also doesn’t account for how the ability is past on. Wizards get pregnant all the time and no one ever catches them with a unicorn horn in an inappropriate place. Besides, that is just so barbaric that it’s clearly a crude joke started long ago; obviously it would be stupid to taint your being by killing a unicorn in order to get pregnant. The potion could have been made with the horn of a unicorn that died of natural causes and it was a onetime event, requiring a limited amount of horn powder. So the answer has to be that there was a potion that started it all or there was a wish granting unicorn.”  
“It has to be the potion then…the idea of a unicorn granting a wish is ludicrous.”  
“I’m not so sure. Unicorns are very magically powerful creatures; we’ve just barely begun to touch the surface of what they’re capable of.”  
They talked some more of unicorns and Hermione’s upcoming seventh year. Then Ron and Draco returned, talking of automatic churning machines. But it was getting late, so there was a long goodbye filled with many hugs for Hermione, who Ron would be dropping off at King’s Cross tomorrow. And then the cab arrived and Harry and Draco went back to Grimmauld Place. Draco closed his eyes on the way back, seemingly not noticing the ride he had found so terrifying earlier; it was amazing what some good ice cream could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just barely wrote this and I hope there aren’t too many errors. I didn’t even realize until Saturday that it was near September 1st in the timeline, so I had to rearrange my original idea for this chapter and fit in Hermione’s departure.


	17. Chapter17

            Harry imagined Teddy and the new baby growing up together and being a cross between adoptive brothers and best friends; nothing like how Harry and Dudley were growing up. Teddy wasn’t much older and it would be like the two children had built-in playmates in each other. Harry would make sure the boys got along and didn’t fight, but he didn’t anticipate intense sibling rivalry anyway. This situation was completely different from Harry’s childhood, because he hadn’t had parents or any other adult in his corner, while Dudley had had two loving parents. Teddy wasn’t Harry, because he had Dromeda and Harry wouldn’t let him be mistreated. Harry also couldn’t imagine the possibility of the Malfoy heir ever being mistreated; not when Draco and Cissy were around to see that the baby had every luxury imaginable.

            Judging from the way Draco was with Teddy, Harry didn’t think Draco would be like the Dursleys and teach their child to pick on Teddy. If anything, Draco seemed to be embracing Teddy. First there was that Saturday trip to the Burrow when Draco had first met Teddy and Dromeda and had clearly been better with the baby than Harry was, but since then there had apparently been many similar visits. According to Kreacher’s reports, Dromeda and Teddy stopped by to visit Draco at least once a week and apparently they were all getting on well. At least Harry surmised as much from the fact that Draco kept bringing up the need to have his aunt and second cousin over for Sunday tea.

            Harry wasn’t sure why Dromeda needed to come over specifically for Sunday tea, when it was one of only two days he had off from work a week. There were five days a week when he worked all day long during which Draco was free to visit with Dromeda and Teddy and Harry knew for a fact that the three were meeting without him. Never-the-less, Dromeda and Draco seemed to be set on arranging a visit when Harry was home.

            “You really should spend more time with your godson, Harry. He’s gotten so big since the last time you saw him,” Draco said.

            “Is he talking yet?” Harry asked.

            Kids were easier to deal with once they could talk and tell you what was wrong. Oh and walk too, that way Harry wouldn’t have to pick them up and risk dropping them. He thought he’d start spending more time with Teddy once the kid could walk and talk. Besides, it wasn’t like Teddy was old enough to remember yet or anything. It didn’t even occur to Harry that he had sort of a double standard in place when it came to bonding and spending time with Teddy versus the baby Draco was carrying. Besides, the new baby was still inside Draco and all Harry was doing was touching it at night; he wasn’t holding it, so there was no way he could drop it and he wasn’t responsible for caring for it, because Draco’s body did that.

            “As a matter of fact, yes, he is. He told me, ‘Hi,’ about a hundred times this week and he called me, ‘Bob.’”

            “Bob? Your name’s Draco.”

            “He’s only five months old, give him time.”

            “Right…” Harry replied skeptically.

            “You’re just jealous because he’s your godson, yet he said my name first. He clearly likes me better.”

            “Uh-huh. I bet he calls everyone Bob.”

            “Not that I know of. He calls Dromeda, ‘Mmmaaaa’ and Kreacher, ‘Ih.’”

            “And Molly?”

            “I’ve never heard him say anything to Molly other than, ‘Hi,’ and, ‘Duh.’”

            “‘Duh,’ isn’t a word; it’s a sound.”

            “Maybe he’s saying a word and I just can’t understand it. Why don’t you spend some time with him yourself and decipher his baby talk?”

            “Because I have to work.”

            “You don’t work Sundays.”

            And so it came to this again. “Why is Sunday tea so important to you? I’d rather have the time to go for a nice fly.”

            “He’s my second cousin, which makes him family. You’re supposed to be the one looking after him and taking care of him, but you’re too selfish to think of anything but your broom. As it is, he’s growing up with no one other than his gran around; I worry he’ll turn into another Longbottom.”

            That was harsh. “I do plan on being there for him when he’s older. As soon as he can ride a child’s broom we can go flying together,” Harry reasoned, mostly to convince himself of it.

            “What are you so afraid of? So much for the famous blind-bravery of Savior Potter. I bet the Prophet would make it their top story for the next year if they knew you were afraid of a baby.”

            “I’m not afraid of Teddy!”

            “To be honest, the little guy is murder on my hair, but then your hair already looks like it’s been styled with baby vomit, so that can’t be it. Your clothes are so ratty that a bit of baby drool would improve them…”

            “I’m not worried about my clothes or my hair!”

            “Great. I’ll just send my aunt an owl letting her know you’d like her to bring the little guy over for tea Sunday.”

            “No!” Harry exclaimed a bit too rashly.

            “Me thinks you doth protest too much. What are you hiding? Does the Great Harry Potter have a secret phobia of babies? Or is it that you don’t want to share the spotlight with a cute little baby? A person that is too young to worship you and lick your shoes; is that it? You’ll be a proper godfather once he’s old enough to worship you.”

            “No, it’s nothing like that!”

            “Then what is it?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

            Harry waited for several minutes and tried to come up with a way to get himself out of this. “I’m just busy, alright?”

            “No, quite frankly it’s not alright. Didn’t you say you had the resurrection stone during the war?”

            “Yeah, so what?”

            “Well, you should pull it out and inform Dear Departed Professor Lupin that he picked a bloody awful godfather for his orphan son and see if his spirit can rectify the problem. I’m sure there’s a werewolf somewhere who’d do a better job of it; not even a werewolf could make a bigger mess of it than you.”

            “I’m going to be a great godfather!”

            “When?”

            “When Teddy’s older and can talk!”  
            “He needs you now. What do you find so scary about a baby? You’re willing to save everything else in the world, just not a baby.”

            “I might break him, alright!?!” Harry exclaimed, finally admitting just what he was worried about. “He’s so little and squirmy and I almost dropped him last time I tried to hold him.” Harry let out a sigh of defeat as he looked at his shoes, clearly embarrassed to admit this.

            “Harry, look at me,” Draco said and waited until Harry made eye contact. “You won’t break him. If you’re worried about dropping him, then sit with him on the floor, where he doesn’t have far to fall. And you don’t even need to hold him to be there for him. He can sit up now; sit next to him and play with him and talk to him. He only has two teeth; he doesn’t even bite yet. And as long as it isn’t the full moon, you can’t possibly catch anything from him.”

            “Teddy is _not_ a werewolf!”

            “Then stop treating him like one and spend some time with him!”

            “Fine, I will!”

            “Good! Are you going to owl my aunt or should I?”

            And that is how Draco trapped Harry into inviting Dromeda and Teddy over for Sunday tea.

* * *

            Dromeda stepped through the floo Sunday afternoon right on time, pushing Teddy in his bright red pram and carrying a nappy bag over her shoulder. Teddy was initially sporting olive green hair, which matched the olive green cars on his light blue romper suit. But then Teddy’s hair turned to a pale blond, his eyes grew lighter, and his chin took on a distinctive point.

            Teddy reached out his chubby little hands towards Draco and said, “Bob! Bob-bob-bob-bob-baaaa.”

            “See, I told you little Edward likes me,” Draco said to Harry, while stepping towards Teddy and Dromeda to greet his aunt and cousin.

            “Edward?” Harry asked.

            “Ted was short for Edward; Teddy’s first name is Edward,” Dromeda replied.

            “Edward is a much more befitting name for my second cousin, I think. Isn’t it little Edward?” Draco asked in the high pitched voice one only used when talking to young children.

            Teddy replied with a happy squeal and crammed his saliva covered fingers into Draco’s mouth.

            “I liked him better with the puke colored hair,” Harry muttered under his breath. Just his luck and his own godson would turn on him and like Draco sodding Malfoy better than him.

            Dromeda forced Harry into a tight hug, before allowing Harry to escort her and Teddy upstairs to the drawing room. At first Dromeda occupied Harry’s time with wanting a detailed account of Auror training so far and retelling stories of Tonks’ Auror days, while Draco played with Teddy.

            Then Dromeda turned to Draco and asked about his recent healer appointment. Molly had taken Draco Thursday for the long over-due first appointment and Dromeda was interested in hearing all of the details. Harry had asked Draco for the details too, but he hadn’t known what sorts of things to ask about. All Draco had told Harry was that it went fine, the baby was healthy, and it wouldn’t be until sometime in the future that they would do the scan to determine the sex of the baby. But under Dromeda’s expert questioning, Draco was disclosing all sorts of additional information, such as the fact that he was twenty-three weeks pregnant and had gotten to hear the heartbeat. The baby was eleven and a half inches long and weighed about two pounds.

            Harry was engrossed in Draco’s retelling of the healer visit when Teddy spit up all over Draco. Draco immediately handed the baby over to Harry, forcing Teddy into Harry’s arms, in order to pull out his wand and clean off the baby vomit. Harry tried to protest and hand Teddy back to Draco, but Draco wasn’t looking and was preoccupied with cleaning himself, while continuing his account of the healer appointment to Dromeda.

            Harry had the unmistakable urge to get up and walk Teddy over to Dromeda, but he didn’t. Dromeda was on the other side of Draco and far enough away that Harry couldn’t pass the baby on in the way Draco had. Furthermore, he was Teddy’s godfather and hadn’t held the baby in _months_ ; he felt like a cad just thinking about his desire to hand his godson off so quickly. And so Harry kept a firm hold on Teddy, hoping the moment would pass and that Dromeda or Draco would soon relieve Harry of baby duty.

            One minute Harry had been focused on what Draco and Dromeda were saying about fetal brain development in this stage of the pregnancy, and the next he was trying not to drop a squiggly infant and looking down to see Teddy tracing a saliva coated finger along Harry’s arm, leaving a snail-like trail behind. Teddy was drooling long chains of spittle all down his pointy chin, drenching his little car-patterned bib. Worse, there were flecks of curdled baby formula in the mess. Harry grabbed a cloth from the pram and began to wipe Teddy up, wondering how anything so little could be so messy; Teddy’s copious bodily fluids were already all over Harry’s sweater. Molly had just given Harry this sweater for his birthday and it was his favorite.

            It was a very long time before anyone bothered relieving Harry of baby detail. Not even when Teddy started fussing did Dromeda or Draco offer to take Teddy back. Instead, Dromeda just made up a bottle and passed it over, leaving Harry to navigate the difficult task of feeding Teddy. Clearly he barely knew which end to insert into the little month and one of his houseguests should have volunteered to help him; even Teddy could see that. It was Teddy who ended up helping Harry out, grabbing the bottle with his cubby little hands and directing it into his mouth, before sucking greedily.

            “Thanks kid; at least you’re looking out for me,” Harry whispered into Teddy’s ear.

            Somehow, despite the amount of regurgitating Teddy regularly engaged in and the soiling of nappies, Teddy’s wispy blond hair still managed to smell pleasant. Teddy smelled of lavender and baby powder. Harry nudged Teddy’s ear with his nose and smiled down at his godson. Teddy smiled back up at Harry, lips curved up around the nipple of the bottle, and a thin line of milk dribbled down the corner of his mouth. Maybe this being a godfather and a father thing wouldn’t be so hard after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is starting to bond with Teddy, as per Draco’s secret plan. What did you think? I’m thinking I’ll have Teddy over again next chapter.


	18. Chapter18

            Harry came home from work one Tuesday evening to the sound of Teddy’s cries. He hadn’t been aware that Dromeda and Teddy were even coming over today, much less staying for supper, but he figured that this must be Draco’s doing. He followed the sound into the drawing room, where he was surprised to find neither Dromeda nor Draco; instead there was only old Kreacher with the baby.

            “The werewolf baby is not to be crying. Master Draco, sir, has ordered Kreacher to see to the werewolf baby. Kreacher is seeing him, but he is not asking for anything, so he _must_ be quiet. He is upsetting the noble Master,” Kreacher said in his deep gravelly voice.

            Teddy just continued to cry with his brow accentuated out like a Goblin’s and his hair the greenish yellow color of bogies.  When he saw Harry in the doorway, he reached his chubby little hands out to Harry, as if he wanted to be picked up and wailed again, his hair shifting to a darker color.

            “What’s going on Kreacher? Where are Dromeda and Draco?” Harry asked, coming into the room and looking around for something to stop Teddy from crying.

            There was a rattle on the floor and a soother on the coffee table; he grabbed both and approached the baby. While Kreacher spoke, Harry tried to insert the soother into Teddy’s mouth, but the baby just spit it out and cried harder, continuing to reach out for Harry, with his features morphing more towards Harry’s; the goblin brow was replaced with the Potter brow and his hair was dark brown now.

            “The blood traitor left the werewolf baby here with Master Draco, sir. He is feeling ill and went to the loo.”

            “How long has Draco been gone?” Harry asked, desperately dangling the rattle in front of Teddy, hoping to stop the horrible crying sound.

            “Only a few minutes. The werewolf baby was not crying before Master Draco, sir, put him down. Kreacher doesn’t think there is anything actually wrong with the werewolf baby.”

            “Stop calling him that; his name’s Teddy and he’s your master too now.”

            Now Teddy had hold of one of Harry’s hands, the one that held the rattle, and was pulling on the appendage, while continuing to cry. Harry gave it up as a bad job, conceded defeat, and picked his godson up. Teddy stopped crying immediately, clenching his two little fists into Harry’s jumper, clinging on for dear life. That was probably for the best, because Harry was still concerned he might drop Teddy and he was now walking towards the loo, to check on Draco. Harry found Draco sitting next to the toilet with a pained look on his face and rubbing his stomach.

            “I thought the nausea had past. Are you throwing up again?” Harry asked, sitting down with Teddy next to Draco. He did so partly to get closer to Draco, but also so that Teddy didn’t have so far to fall in case of the worst.

            Draco shook his head and said, “I didn’t throw up.”

            “Then what happened?”

            “I thought I was going to; my stomach hurts badly enough that I want to and I tried, but nothing came up.”

            “What should I do?”

            “I already took the anti-nausea potion, so it’s not that. I don’t know what to do; it just really hurts.”

            “How about a pain potion?” Draco nodded. “Do you think you can hold Teddy while I go get it?”

            “No, you should take him with you. I can’t watch him right now.”

            Harry huffed, but the potions he had purchased for Draco’s pregnancy were only down the hall in Draco’s room, so he got back up, with Teddy, and went to retrieve the one he needed. He hadn’t been planning on buying pregnancy-safe pain-potions, but had been talked into it by the sales witch when he went to buy Draco’s other pregnancy potions. Pregnancy was painful, she had said, and regular pain-potions were dangerous to unborn babies, so he had caved; now that Draco was actually in pain, he was glad he had. He was soon back in the loo, with Teddy held under the armpits in one arm and a vial of pain-potion in the other hand. Somehow Teddy found the situation amusing; he was squealing in delight while rapidly changing the color of his hair from black to purple and back, although Harry didn’t know why. At least Teddy wasn’t crying at him.

            “Here,” Harry said as he handed the vial over to Draco.

            Draco downed it and then thanked Harry.

            “Feel better?”

            “A bit, but it still hurts.”

            “Well what should I do?”

            “I just sent Kreacher to fetch my mother; she’ll know what to do,” Draco said.

            And so Harry sat back down next to Draco with Teddy. It was another five minutes before Cissy poked her head through the floo and called out for Draco.

            “In here Mother,” Draco called.

            “Oh Draco!” Cissy exclaimed, rushing into the loo carrying a vial of potion, kneeling down next to Draco, and holding the potion out to her son.

            “What is that?” Harry asked, referring to the potion.

            “Heartburn potion; pregnancy safe. Take it Draco and you’ll feel better,” Cissy said.

            Draco nodded and took the potion.

            “So it’s heartburn he has?” Harry asked, pushing Teddy off on Cissy, in the guise of checking on Draco.

            “We’ll see; if the potion works then it’s heartburn. Why is Edward here?” Cissy asked.

            “No idea,” Harry said, but was interrupted by Draco burping loudly. “Is that supposed to happen?”

            “Yes, if it’s heartburn, the potion will cause some gas in the process of correcting the issue,” Cissy replied.

            “Excuse me,” Draco said, after another particularly loud burp. “I think that’s the worst of it; I’m feeling better already. Help me up Harry?”

            Harry agreed, and helped Draco up from the floor. Draco tried to pull away to walk on his own, but Harry insisted that Draco lean on him, incase Draco started feeling sick again. Harry’s arm wrapped around Draco’s back and under his arm, pulling their bodies against each other. Harry could feel Draco’s warm body pressed against his side and it was strangely pleasant to be able to be close to Draco during the day, when normally their physical contact was limited to the middle of the night.

            They went to the drawing room, with Cissy and Teddy following behind. Harry sat Draco down on the sofa and sat down next to him. Cissy sat down on Draco’s other side, with Teddy in her lap.

            “Why is Edward here? Where’s Dromeda?” Cissy asked.

            “I’d like to know that myself,” Harry replied.

            Draco covered another, much smaller, burp with his hand before answering. “Aunt Dromeda stopped by after lunch and needed someone to watch him. She’s to meet with Goblins about selling Dora’s old house. She was desperate to go right that minute, because there was a buyer and she hasn’t had a decent offer on the place in all this time. She tried you, Grandmother, and Molly first, Mother, but none of you were home.”

            “My mother and I went out on a shopping trip. It’s so nice to have wizarding folk willing to sell to us again; ever since that article in the paper things have been better,” Cissy said. “I wonder where Molly is.”

            “Molly told me yesterday that she had to pop by to visit Charlie. She was to take me to my next healer appointment Friday, but if she’s not back, I’ll just have to reschedule,” Draco said.

            Molly’s spontaneous visit to Romania was mostly Harry’s doing. He wanted to take Draco to that healer appointment himself, because it was the big one, when they’d get to see the baby and learn the sex. Everything, from the name, clothes, and color of the nursery depended on the sex. Harry was sure he would love the baby either way, but he wanted to know and to be there when they found out. He also wanted to see the baby with his own eyes and not through some photograph taken of the scan.

            Draco had just had his second healer appointment last Friday and instead of checking the sex then, they had told Draco to come back this Friday for the scan. That worked out in Harry’s favor, because he wanted to go and appreciated the warning. But he didn’t know how to go about telling Draco that. Instead he had stopped by the Burrow and arranged with Molly for something to come up. Then when Friday’s appointment comes around, he’ll take the day off from work and swoop in to save the day.

            “Nonsense; I can take you Draco,” Cissy said.

            “Actually Cissy, I can’t let you do that. Until the charges are dealt with, I can’t release Draco into your custody. I’ll take him myself,” Harry countered.

            Cissy raised one eyebrow and looked at Harry inquisitively for a minute, before she smiled and winked at Harry. “Of course Harry; that’s probably for the best if you take him.”

            “No, Harry has to work. I’ll just reschedule,” Draco said.

            “No Draco, you need this appointment; you shouldn’t miss it. Didn’t healer Smith tell you how important these appointments are? You need to be monitored closely to ensure the baby is developing correctly,” Cissy replied.

            “See, these appointments are important, so I’ll just take the day off,” Harry said.

            “It’s settled then,” Cissy concluded.

            Draco didn’t have anything to say to that, so he shrugged and took Teddy from Cissy, in order to have something else to do besides answering. “Now Edward, why’d you start crying the moment I put you down?” Draco asked the baby. “I played with you all afternoon and there was nothing wrong with you.”

            “Bob-bob-bob! Duh!” Teddy replied.

            That reminded Harry of Kreacher’s repulsive attempts to stop the baby from crying. “Yeah, um, Kreacher was bloody awful with him; kept calling him the werewolf baby. I ordered him to stop,” Harry said.

            “Harry, I know you don’t believe in punishing your house elf, but in this case I think it’s clearly warranted,” Cissy said.

            A mild disagreement between Cissy and Harry followed, during which Draco got up to change Teddy’s nappy. Cissy insisted that elves needed to be taught their proper place and punished. Harry could never stand Dobby punishing himself and wasn’t fond of the idea of punishing Kreacher now, thinking back to how Dobby had died in his arms. Then there was Hermione and what she would think if she knew Harry had engaged in corporeal punishment with a house elf; it would be endless lectures on SPEW and house elf rights. Hermione might be off at Hogwarts, but knowing her, she’d still find out about it.

            And that’s what they were doing when Dromeda and Madam Black stepped through the floo.

            “Oh Draco! Are you okay? My mother found me and told me you weren’t feeling well. Here, let me take Teddy,” Dromeda said, taking a newly changed Teddy from Draco.

            “Yes Auntie. The potion Mother brought me worked wonders,” Draco replied.

            “Wonderful,” Dromeda said, pulling Draco into a hug with the arm that wasn’t holding Teddy. “Thank you so much for watching him dear.”

            “Anytime Auntie,” Draco replied.

            While this was going on, Madam Black stood in Harry’s drawing room, staring Harry down with an accusatory look. She had heavily lidded eyes, pale grey hair, and copious wrinkles befitting her age. For a moment Harry was on the edge of his seat, certain he was going to get a lecture in a similar vein to the ones given by the portrait of Walburga Black.

            “Mother, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my mother Druella Black,” Cissy said, breaking the tension.

            “Yes, erm, how do you do?” Harry asked tentatively holding out his hand.

            Druella Black didn’t take Harry’s hand. Instead her blue eyes narrowed.

            “Now Mother, do take Harry’s hand. You heard what the house elf said: Harry wasn’t even home when Draco took ill. And if it weren’t for Harry’s name being associated with ours through this baby, we wouldn’t have been able to buy that potion so quickly,” Cissy said.

            “He’s disgracing this family by letting that baby be born out of wedlock. He should do the right thing and make an honest man out of Draco before a bastard child is born into our noble family. Why we haven’t had a bastard in the family proper in a thousand years!” Madam Black exclaimed. Her voice was high, tinkling, and strangely graveled with old age at the same time. Her thin lips were pursed, exaggerating the wrinkles surrounding and bordering on engulfing them.

            “Er, excuse me?” Harry asked, not knowing what to say here. He felt ambushed and was clenching his wand in one hand, but quelled by his unwillingness to hex an old lady who didn’t even have her wand out.

            “You heard me young man. You think that just because you saved us all you can do whatever it is you want. Well I have news for you: I don’t care about your fame and neither will that child. That child will care only about the fact that you weren’t willing to claim him properly!” Druella replied.

            “Look, I don’t know what you think has happened between us, but I wasn’t even there for the conception. I certainly won’t be marrying a _bloke_ just to satisfy you and your bloody pureblood traditions!” Harry exclaimed, losing his tentative restraint. At the moment, he didn’t care how old this lady was.

            At the sound of Harry’s raised voice, Teddy started crying in Dromeda’s arms.

            “Mother! Harry! Look, you’ve upset my precious grandbaby. There is no reason to argue over this,” Dromeda insisted, bouncing Teddy in her arms, in an effort to placate him.

            Madam Black crossed her arms and inclined her head in Harry’s direction. “Tell _him_ that,” she said petulantly, in a manner that reminded Harry of Bellatrix.

            “Mother, Dromeda is quite right. This isn’t Harry’s fault,” Cissy added.

            “You may be soft and cave under public opinion of the Savior, but not me. I won’t make excuses for anyone, not even the Savior of the Wizarding World, especially not when it comes to my family,” Madam Black said.

            While Madam Black was speaking, Cissy got up and went over to where Draco and Dromeda stood with Teddy. “Draco dear, I’m afraid your grandmother and I can’t stay. You’re feeling alright now?”

            “Yes Mother,” Draco replied. “Thank you for coming over.”

            “Er…” Harry said, not knowing what to say to Draco’s grandmother.

            “My daughters may be afraid of you and the possibility that they’ll end up in Azkaban for speaking out against you, but I’m not. I may be old, but with my age comes freedom. I don’t care if the Wizengamot locks me up for life; there isn’t much left of my life. So mark my words Harry James Potter: if you hurt my precious grandson or that baby of his, you’ll have to answer to me,” Madam Black said sternly.

            Harry blinked with his mouth hanging open. He was surprised that this little old lady was standing up to him on Draco’s behalf, when he hadn’t even done anything to Draco this time. “Yes mam,” he finally managed.

            “Well Draco, I’m afraid that your grandmother threatening Harry is our cue to depart,” Cissy said, giving Draco a kiss on the cheek. “Come on Mother, we’re leaving before you get Dromeda and me thrown into Azkaban by association.”

            “I won’t be cowed by the likes of him,” Madam Black insisted.

            “Of course not Mother. Now isn’t Father at home waiting for supper? I bet he’s wondering where you’ve gotten to,” Cissy said, clearly changing the subject.

            “Yes, Teddy and I must be going too. Thank you again for watching him Draco. Harry,” Dromeda said, helping her sister push their mother along towards the floo.

            And then all of the house guests were leaving and Harry was left feeling slightly bewildered.

            “Don’t worry Harry; she’s all bark and no bite. She’s only concerned for her family,” Draco said reassuringly. “Now if I’m not mistaken, Kreacher should have our own dinner waiting for us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter they will get to see the baby for the first time. Who do you want it to look like? Whose chin, cheeks, jaw, or forehead (these are the features they might be able to make out)? Majority rules, so if you have a preference, let me know!
> 
> In other news, my sister-in-law just had her ultrasound done and it’s a boy! The technology is getting a lot clearer: I can see my nephew’s grumpy facial expression and he undoubtedly has my brother’s brow structure. He looks adorable already as she’s only five months along :D


	19. Chapter19

            Friday came and true to his word, Harry took the day off from work. None of the other Aurors were allowed a day off during training, but technically, watching Draco was work, so Robards authorized it.

            Healer Smith had a cheerful practice in Wiltshire. Harry had expected the healer to specialize in male pregnancy or at least pregnancy, but judging from the brochures on display and the posters lining the wall, that wasn’t the case. By all appearances this was the office of an ordinary family practitioner. Molly had said she was taking Draco to the same healer Tonks had seen and if this guy had delivered Teddy, then that was good enough for Harry. But then Harry noticed a series of flyers on the health risks associated with interbreeding with muggles and or contracting muggle diseases and he began to change his mind. Just to be sure, he picked up a flyer at random and verified that it was full of racist nonsense, which it was; in fact it just happened to be on the dangers of interbreeding with werewolves.

            “Draco, I don’t think I like this guy. I can’t believe Tonks saw him and I know I can find you someone better,” Harry said, waving the horrible flyer around in the air.

            “My cousin Dora didn’t see Healer Smith; she saw that horrible Healer Mason. Bloody awful bint if you ask me. Molly dragged me there once and then I convinced her to take me here, where I always go. Healer Smith has been my healer since I was little. Before him it was his father I saw,” Draco replied.

            Well that explained it: Healer Smith was a racist pureblood quack so it made perfect sense that the Malfoys had been seeing him for ages. But Draco was comfortable with this healer and shared many of the same horrible ideals, so Harry was wary of outright insulting the healer; on any other day he would, but not today when they were to find out the sex of the baby. If something interfered with this appointment, Harry wouldn’t be able to accompany Draco to the next appointment without having to admit that he actually wanted to go. He wasn’t ready to admit that yet, thus he decided to take a more politically correct tactic.

            “But this guy is just a family doctor, not a specialist. Wouldn’t it be better if you saw a specialist? You know, someone who only does pregnancy? Maybe even someone who’s had cases of male pregnancy…I’ll get your mum to help me find someone you’re comfortable with,” Harry suggested.

            “I’m comfortable with Healer Smith and he’s delivered dozens of babies,” Draco replied. “Besides, we’re related.”

            “You are?” Harry asked.

            “Yes, we are. He’s my dad’s cousin. His mother is my grandfather’s younger sister. His son Zack is my closest cousin, besides Dora. We’re the same age and we grew up together; their manor is only on the other side of the forest from our Manor.”

            Of course it was. That meant that not only was Harry objecting to the healer who had treated Draco all his life, but also to a man who was family. He would have to tread carefully and he decided that he would wait until after the news to bring this subject up again. That way it wouldn’t matter if he was never allowed to take Draco to the healer again, because they’d already know the sex. Plus, after the appointment, he would be able to cite specific facts in his complaint; he just hoped he could catch Healer Smith doing something wrong.

            It wasn’t much longer before they were called back into the exam room. Healer Smith was a slender middle aged man with a full head of greying blond hair and he looked familiar. “Hello, you must be Harry Potter. I’m Healer Fyren Smith. You went to school with my son Zacharias,” he said, holding out his gloved hand to shake.

            Now Harry knew where he recognized Healer Smith from before; Hogwarts. He couldn’t bloody stand Zacharias Smith and he didn’t think he would like the father any better. But Draco was watching and Healer Smith was waiting, so Harry took his hand in a quick hard-handed grip, before letting go again.

            “Good to see you again Draco. How have you been feeling?” Healer Smith asked, motioning Draco to hop onto the exam table. There was a stool, but Harry reached out and held Draco’s arm just in case.

            “Alright, besides some heartburn,” Draco replied, lying back on the table.

            “Well, let me start with your vitals and make sure everything is as it should be. Sometimes stress can cause heartburn, but normally it is just another of the unfortunate side-effects of being pregnant. There are pregnancy approved potions you can take for it,” the healer said.

            Draco nodded and Healer Smith started with the exam, waving his wand above Draco’s body and causing numerous flashes of information to appear. Harry watched it all in fascination, but Healer Smith moved through the spells too quickly for him to process. After about ten minutes, the healer paused to record the results on Draco’s chart, before telling his patient the results.

            “Draco, your blood pressure is elevated today. The last time you came in it was a bit high, but this time it really is too high. We need to watch this carefully, because it’s a sign that you’re under too much stress. Too much stress is bad for the baby. I want you to start monitoring you’re blood pressure and you’re to come in immediately if it’s over one forty-five. There’s a potion I can give you for it, but it’s important for you to start managing your stress better. You’re pregnant, so you should be doing more relaxing and less worrying yourself,” Healer Smith said.

            Draco nodded, but Harry had several questions. “What do you mean he’s stressed out?” Harry asked defensively. “He doesn’t _do_ anything _but_ relax all day.”

            “Mister Potter, surely you can understand how stressful Mister Malfoy’s situation is,” Healer Smith replied, but Harry just stared at him defiantly. “The greatest source of stress is the fact that he’s under house arrest, I imagine. Have you given any thought at all to how he feels? He can’t go home or see his mother whenever he wants and is instead stuck in the home of an Auror.”

            Harry had to admit the healer had a point there, although he didn’t think his house was all that bad. Plus, he’d been doing his best to take care of Draco, so it shouldn’t matter that Draco couldn’t go home. Who wants to go home when said home is bloody Malfoy Manor anyway?

            “Then there’s the fact that his father has been whisked away to Azkaban; whatever you may think of Lucius, he is Draco’s father and without him Draco is technically the head of the family. That is a lot of responsibility to be placed onto such young shoulders,” Healer Smith continued. “And finally there is the issue of Draco being unwed. He is a single father without the promise of help from a second parent; not even an estranged second parent.”

            “That’s not true! I told him I’d help with the baby. I’ll pay my fair share of support payments and whatnot,” Harry replied defiantly.

            “He did say as much,” Draco confirmed, trying to hold back a smile.

            “I’m glad to hear it. A baby needs two parents and knowing that you’re willing to step up to the plate Mister Potter should help reduce the stress load Draco is feeling,” Healer Smith replied.

            Harry nodded and Healer Smith proceeded to teach his patient the spell to check blood pressure. After that Smith went into a spiel about things Draco can do to calm himself down when he’s feeling overwhelmed or when the spell indicated that his blood pressure was elevated. Smith gave Draco a card with the various ranges of blood pressure and what that meant in terms of danger.

            “Now if you’re in this range here, then it really is imperative that you come in right away. I’ll monitor you closely until it drops or if it continues to rise, I’ll administer the blood pressure potion,” Smith was saying.

            “If it’s so important, why don’t I just stock up on it and he can take it whenever he needs it,” Harry reasoned.

            “Because altering one’s blood pressure can be very dangerous, especially when pregnant. It isn’t advisable for a pregnant person to take this potion, except under the supervision of a trained healer. When he comes in, the first thing I will do is recast the spell, to make sure he obtained the correct results. Only once I’ve determined that his blood pressure is elevated dangerously, will I calculate the exact amount of potion he needs in correlation to how high his blood pressure is. The higher it is, the more potion he will need. He’ll be monitored closely until the potion wears off, to make sure that his blood pressure doesn’t drop too low. If that were to happen, I would give him the counter-potion, because having too low a blood pressure can be fatal for both Father and baby,” Smith explained.

            “Well if it’s that dangerous, why give him the blood pressure potion at all? Wouldn’t he be better off just doing your meditation exercises?” Harry asked, concerned.

            “High blood pressure and stress can lead to premature birth or a low birth weight. It’s important to monitor it and keep both down. In fact, if the blood pressure rises high enough, Draco is in danger of heart attack or stroke and the baby is in danger of death,” Healer Smith answered.

            Hearing that, Harry began to panic. He hadn’t been doing anything to try to reduce Draco’s level of stress. If anything, he was probably the cause of most of it. And what wasn’t caused by him was caused by his friends, the house arrest, and the whole post-war situation. To think he could lose his baby over something like this and possibly Draco too…

            “Calm down Mister Potter. This situation can be dealt with if monitored closely. The blood pressure potion is quick and effective and steps can be taken to reduce Draco’s stress level,” Smith said, noticing that Harry was bordering on hyperventilation.

            “Harry, it’s not a big deal. I’ll start monitoring my blood pressure and if it’s too high, I’ll send Kreacher to fetch you. I’ll be here getting the treatment before anything bad can happen,” Draco added.

            Harry eventually calmed down and the appointment continued. All of Draco’s other vitals were fine and his blood pressure was only bordering on the dangerous level, not actually in the dangerous zone yet. The baby had grown both in length and weight even since last week, which was good. Draco too was putting on weight and Smith said that overall, Draco was experiencing a healthy pregnancy.

            Then _finally_ the part came that Harry had been looking forward to: the scan of the baby. It was similar to an ultrasound in concept, but carried out by magic. There was a spell that transferred an image of the baby as it was inside Draco to the surface of a mirror. Smith explained the procedure to the expectant parents and handed the large mirror to them to hold, so that they could have the first look at their baby.

            And then Smith spoke the incantation with a wave of his wand and their baby appeared on the mirror. It was a tiny thing that was curled up on itself in the fetal position. The head took up at least one third of the total length, if not more. The eyes were large underneath partially translucent closed eyelids. The baby looked too thin, with the ribs clearly visible underneath the skin covering the chest. The face too was without fat to soften the lines of the facial bones, accentuating the sharpness of the Malfoy chin and cheekbones.

            Harry was in awe as he pored over the image of his child. He thought for a moment that the baby looked like a miniature Draco, but then the tiny face turned and he caught a glimpse of a brow he’d never seen before, except in photographs of his mother and grandmother. The nose too wasn’t Draco’s, although he couldn’t tell whose nose it was; it was a tiny button nose. The small baby was clearly alive, moving right before his eyes. The spine bent and flexed, the fingers spread wide and then re-curled, the mouth made little sucking motions, and the eyes were seen to shift under the closed lids. It was beautiful and he was in love instantly.

            “Is he a boy or a girl?” Draco asked reverently.

            “If you’ll let me see the mirror for a moment gentlemen, I can change the angle to show you,” Smith replied.

            Harry was reluctant to give up the wondrous mirror, but Draco jerked it out of Harry’s grip and held it out for Smith to access. Smith tapped his wand to the glass, dragged the tip along the surface, and cast a silent spell. The image rotated until they were looking in between a pair of bent legs. There was an adorably tiny baby bum, with a pair of wrinkly feet moving about and occasionally blocking the view. But even with the feet obstructing part of view, it was clear that she was a girl.

            “It’s a girl,” Smith said unnecessarily.

            “She gorgeous,” Harry said.

            “My little Princess Potter,” Draco confirmed.

            “Princess Potter?” Harry asked curiously, but with the awe from the revelation still in his voice.

            “Oh, do you mind if I give her your last name? I thought it’d be okay,” Draco replied.

            “Are you crazy? It’s brilliant! I just thought you’d want her to be a Malfoy,” Harry replied.

            “That was what I was going to do, but then I was thinking…Voldemort intended for her to be his heir, but she didn’t turn out to even be his child. It would be the ultimate fuck you to name her after you, his vanquisher and mortal enemy. I hope he’s rolling over in his grave knowing that the child he made is not only yours, but is the Potter heir. Naming her Potter will be like adding one more stake through his heart,” Draco explained.

            Harry couldn’t help himself then. Without thinking about what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around Draco and pressed a kiss to the top of Draco’s head. This was one of the happiest days of his life, right up there with finding out that he was a wizard and that he’d be going to school away from the Dursleys. This was definitely better than defeating Voldemort, because so many people he loved died that day. Maybe this baby had been Voldemort’s idea, but she was the only good thing Voldemort had ever given them. Perhaps her conception was the only good thing Voldemort ever did. And knowing Voldemort, there was no way he’d be pleased with the way things were turning out and the fact that there would soon be one more Potter in the world.

            Draco wrapped one arm around Harry in return and guided Harry’s right hand to rest on his belly. The baby was still moving slightly, as evidenced in the mirror and Harry could feel the small fluttering movements; it was only his second time doing so while Draco was awake.

            “Draco, I promise you that I’m going to take care of you and our princess properly,” Harry murmured into Draco’s ear.

            “I know you will, Harry,” Draco replied.

            While they bonded, Healer Smith examined the image of the baby in the mirror, making sure all the right pieces were in the correct places and at the proper proportion. He was thorough in his work and Harry had to admit that he seemed to know his prenatal healing. Plus Smith hadn’t said anything rude or offensive during the visit, utterly failing to reinforce Harry’s negative image of the healer. With this level of competency, it was going to be difficult to persuade Draco to choose another healer. Maybe he should just let Draco keep the healer he wanted; it was Draco’s body after all and if he wanted a bloody pureblood healer, then perhaps Harry should let him have a bloody pureblood healer. And making Draco switch healers wouldn’t be good for his blood pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make it a boy, but I just decided when writing this chapter that it really should be a girl. The only problem with that is picking out the perfect name for a girl. I googled constellations and I think Lyra, Cassiopeia, and Carina are the prettiest sounding girl ones, and Harry will want to name her Lily, but what name might the two of them agree on? Any ideas? Or just a vote for one of those four names?


	20. Chapter20

            Harry and Ron were spending a lot of time together these days in Auror training. Training was often filled with grueling physical drills, to increase their endurance for those lengthy battles. It also had a fair share of lectures and studying thick textbooks and legal code. Then there was the downtime.

            Harry and Ron had time to talk now, because another Auror trainee was going through the latest obstacle course. It was filled with dangerous magical creatures and senior Aurors dressed as dark wizards with hexes flinging from their wands; Harry had found it mildly challenging, while most of the new Aurors were clearly struggling to master it. Over half of them were done now and Harry and Ron had lost their patience with waiting. Thus the pair had stopped watching and put a small amount of distance between themselves and the other watching trainees.

            “How are things going at home? Everything alright with Malfoy?” Ron asked.

            “Great! Draco was still asleep when I woke up and when I reached over, my daughter kicked me. I can’t believe I’m saying that; it’s a girl you know,” Harry replied.

            “I know. I think the whole world knows; you keep going on about it and it was in the Prophet this morning.”

            Harry had come back from taking the day off and told everyone who would listen that he had a little girl. It wasn’t just that it was a girl, but more that Harry had actually _seen_ the baby, which he thought was pretty amazing. Then there was the news that Draco was giving her Harry’s last name, which Harry was over the moon about. That was four days ago now, so it was no wonder the news had finally spread to the papers.

            “It was?” Harry asked.

            “Yeah.”

            Harry shrugged, his earlier smile oddly still intact, despite this news; he’d been smiling a lot lately. It was too late now to prevent the papers from knowing and at the moment, he couldn’t recall why he would ever not want everyone to know. He was happy about it and if everyone wanted to be happy for him, well then the world could use a little more happiness after surviving Voldemort. “Oh well; they’d find out eventually anyway.”

            “Guess so.”

            “Are you okay with this? I know you weren’t before, but you haven’t said anything against Draco lately. Is that just because your mum told you off before, or…?”

            “I don’t know. I guess it depends.”

            “On what?”

            “On whether Malfoy’s going to turn the baby into another pureblood racist twat or not. I don’t care if she’s the daughter of the Savior, if Malfoy turns her into a copy of his mum and the kid starts throwing the M-word around, well I just don’t think that’s right.”

            “He said he wasn’t going to do that. I’ve seen him with Teddy and he seems alright; hasn’t called him werewolf spawn or anything.”

            “Yeah, but Teddy’s not a werewolf and he is a half-blood; they’re cool with half-bloods.”

            “But still, I don’t think Draco believes that pureblood crap anymore. He took us to that muggle ice cream shop. He hasn’t referred to anyone’s blood stasis since he arrived and he’s been reading a book on why racism and prejudice against muggleborns in combination with inbreeding amongst purebloods is responsible for the wizarding population decline. Dromeda gave it to him, I think.” Harry didn’t mention that the Malfoys were in business with the man from the ice cream parlor, because Draco had asked him not to.

            “Seriously? Malfoy’s reading a book on that?”

            “Yes. I didn’t believe it myself, but he left it lying out last week, so I opened it up. I found a chapter on defects in prominent wizarding lines. It was blaming inbreeding for all of the defects; I reckon it must be true, because I saw how messed up Voldemort’s pureblood family was and they were about as inbred as it gets.”

            “You don’t really think he’s changed, do you?”

            “I think he’s trying to change, yes. Think about it—his family’s pureblood crap got him into this mess—after surviving the war, Hermione thinks he wants to get as far away from all of that as possible,” Harry said. He’d been regularly owling back and forth with Hermione about Draco and the baby situation.

            “Maybe. We’ll have to wait and see, I guess. Just do me a favor and watch out for it, in case you know, he starts indoctrinating the kid.”

            Harry nodded, torn between taking Draco’s side and a bit of his own worries that maybe Draco would. Maybe the new Draco was temporary and once things settled down, he would go back to being the prat he was before. Harry hoped not, for the sake of their kid, but he just didn’t know.

            There was loud cheering then, when the other Auror trainees broke out in excitement as another Auror _finally_ made it past the obstacle course. Harry and Ron turned and cheered too, even though they hadn’t been watching. They gave the poor sod the thumbs up, as if it was a job well done, when really the guy had taken longer than Harry thought was possible. They watched the next trainee intently for a few minutes, but Auror Pucey was just as hopeless as the last when it came to getting past Auror Walker’s stinging hex. Once it was clear there was to be another long wait, Harry and Ron turned to each other to continue their conversation.

            “So besides that, you’re cool with Draco and the baby, right?” Harry asked. He wanted to invite his best mate over on the weekends again, but after Ron’s behavior that one time, he needed to ensure Ron would be cool first, for the sake of Draco’s blood pressure. Draco’s blood pressure was yet to rise to dangerous levels, but nor had it declined, so Harry was determined to eliminate stressful situations for Draco _before_ they happen. Ron had been alright to Draco at Harry’s birthday and at Hermione’s going away dinner though, so Harry thought Ron might be alright to come over.

            “Yeah, I’m cool. Er, as long as you’re okay with it, that is. I reckon you’ve got enough to deal with already.”

            Ron was a good guy at heart. He was rash, had a temper, and was prone to sticking his foot in his mouth, but he was Harry’s friend through and through.

            “I am. I mean, I wasn’t at first, but now I am. All I really wanted was weekend visitation and Draco’s pretty much guaranteed me that I’ll get it. We’ve talked about drafting a custody agreement to that effect. It’s only not done already, because of what you said that one time about not signing anything made up by his lawyer. He says he wants me to find the lawyer, so that no one can accuse him of anything.

            Ron smiled, clapped Harry on the back, and offered his congratulations. And well, that was it. Harry was surprised with the speed of Ron’s acceptance and asked, “Are you really okay with it all?”

            “Yeah, I am. With the way you’ve been going on about feeling your baby girl move and what not…erm, it’s obvious that you’re happy. And well, Draco hasn’t been causing any problems, so I’m not going to cause any problems either.”

            “Great!” Harry replied, slapping Ron’s shoulder in return.

            With that settled, they turned back to the obstacle course, moving a few paces closer to the other trainees.

            “This is a pretty lousy bunch of recruits, yeah?” Ron asked, watching Pucey, who still hadn’t gotten past Walker.

            “Oi Weasley; has it occurred to you that the rest of us haven’t had a year of fighting You-Know-Who and Death Eaters? Nor have we had your little year-end adventures with Potter to prepare us,” Isobel MacDougal said.

            “She may have a point; it is only us that haven’t struggled with this so far,” Harry said with a shrug.

            “Uh, er, yeah, okay Izzy.” Then Ron motioned Harry to move further away from the other recruits, so that they wouldn’t be overheard and cast a muffling charm to boot. “Bloody busy body, that one. It’s no wonder Hermione never got on with her.”

            Isobel had been in their year in Gryffindor. She was a pureblood and unlike Parvati and the late Lavender, she and her friend Sally had discriminated against Hermione for being muggleborn. They’d never called Hermione a mudblood or been anywhere near as bad as Draco and the Slytherins, but they had definitely snubbed Hermione. When things had gotten bad, Sally and her family had left the country. Isobel, however, had been at Hogwarts when Harry showed up and the final battle had begun. For whatever reason—and Harry and Ron had their suspicions that it was only because her cousin had chosen to stay to fight—Isobel had fought on their side during the final battle. The Ministry was so desperate for new Aurors that Kingsley had declared that anyone who had fought on their side was welcome to join the Auror Corps, explaining why Harry and Ron had to put up with her.

            “Yeah,” Harry agreed, but truthfully he thought Isobel might have a point; they had had way more experience than the others. Isobel hadn’t even been in the DA with them. Anthony Goldstein was the only other former member of the DA there and he’d been coming in third in everything practical, behind Ron with Harry in the clear lead. Maybe they ought not to criticize the others.

            Harry and Ron went back to their private conversations, this time discussing things happening in Ron’s life, such as his latest letter from Hermione. Molly had sent Ginny a howler at school for being caught in the middle of the night with Michael in the Astronomy tower. Hermione wrote that both Michael and Ginny got a week of detentions with Filch for it, but Ginny wasn’t cowed into line by either punishment; Hermione had caught Ginny telling Michael that next time they would try the room of requirement again. Apparently the room was healing itself, but damage that severe took time. Last time they tried the room it still smelt of smoke, had scorch marks on the stone floor, and hadn’t been able to provide.   
            Of course Ron was livid just imagining what his sister got into with Michael and spent quite some time disavowing their fifth year DA club for teaching his sister about the room of requirement. Eventually Harry changed the topic by asking about George, who was doing better. George was still dating Angelina, spending loads of time with Lee, and making the joke shop a smashing success. George had even brought Percy by for Sunday dinner this past weekend, which their mum had loved. Apparently Percy was getting serious with someone he worked with at the Ministry named Audrey and had spent hours talking to his parents about how great she was.

            And then it was five O’clock and time to go home. Harry had a tasty elf-cooked meal with Draco and afterwards they spent a typical and enjoyable evening by the fire in the drawing room. Being mid-October, the house had a chill about it that not even magic could completely cure, so they tended to stay in rooms with a lit fire, which meant the drawing room in the evenings and Harry’s room in the night. Draco no longer even pretended to go to his own room to sleep before coming into Harry’s room. Instead Draco cited the fact that his room was too cold, because he never bothered telling Kreacher to start up the fireplace. Harry didn’t have to instruct Kreacher to start up his fire, because his room was closest to the drawing room and as such, the two fireplaces were connected and served by the same fire.

            In general Harry didn’t mind having Draco in bed with him. That night, however, was one of the few nights that he thought would’ve gone better if Draco hadn’t been in his bed. He had been having an odd dream; it was a sex dream, but not with Ginny or anyone in particular. Actually it was the mattress he dreamed he was frotting against; there were brief moments when the mattress took on the form of a faceless human, but mostly it was a mattress. He must’ve been in some dry spell to not even be able to come up with an appropriate witch to ogle in his dreams, but there it was.

            Then Harry was suddenly awakened by Draco pushing his shoulders and mumbling, “No, Potter stop.”

            “Huh? What happened?” Harry asked groggily, pulling himself and his erection away from Draco’s body.

            “Good, you’re off. I have to piss.” Draco moved at top pregnant speed, which wasn’t all that fast given that he was six and a half months pregnant, and took off towards the loo. He used the loo a lot these days.

            Harry was glad for the chance to get himself together. He was only wearing boxers, which were straining with his erection, so he jumped up and started searching for a pair of pajama bottoms. He hadn’t worn them in months, but now he was glad he still owned a few pairs and that they were right where they were supposed to be. While he was at it, he pulled on the one pajama shirt he owned and then climbed back into bed, pulling the sheet over him just to be overly precautious. Draco waddled back a minute later and crawled into bed with him.

            “You must’ve been having some dream. You were shaking like a crup having a seizure; your hip bone was digging into mine,” Draco said, rubbing the junction between his hipbone and his stomach where Harry had apparently been frotting earlier.

            Harry’s cheeks felt like they were on fire as he realized that in his sleep he’d been pressing his erection against Draco there. He knew he’d been entangled with Draco, but this was even worse than he had thought. The growing mound was soft, but it was no mattress and was the last thing Harry wanted to involve in his sex fantasies, even if it was more on the hip than the mound. Luckily, Draco didn’t seem to realize what had happened.

            “Um, sorry,” Harry said abashedly.

            “Okay. What were you dreaming anyway?”

            “I don’t quite remember; it was a bit crazy really.” Harry hoped Draco would let him leave it at that, but Draco raised his eyebrow, indicating that he wanted further explanation. Remembering Draco’s mention of a crup, he decided to start with that. “There was a crup in it and ah, a circus too…er…Yeah, and a Death Eater crucifying me,” Harry lied on the spot. That lie didn’t make any sense at all, but at least he’d prefaced it with that it was a crazy nonsensical dream.

            “Oh…” Draco replied sadly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. It was a good thing I woke you up then.”

            “Yeah, a really good thing. Go back to sleep; I’m going to take a shower.”

            Draco nodded and rolled over and Harry went to take care of his problem, which he still had mind you, in the shower. And his imagination must’ve really been shot, because all it provided him with was the image of a hand; at least it wasn’t a pseudo mattress this time. When he finished and dressed again, he crawled back into bed with a now sleeping Draco. He positioned himself so that his head was level with Draco’s belly and whispered, “I’m so sorry Princess. I didn’t know I was doing that; I was sleeping you see. Daddy would never have done that if he’d known you were there.”

            Harry liked to talk to the baby. He never dared speak in anything above a whisper, for fear of waking Draco up. Somehow his secret bonding with their baby was a taboo, at least in his mind, and he would never admit it, not even when he’d gotten caught in the act a few weeks ago. He’d been touching and bonding with the baby, sure that Draco was asleep, but then Draco’s eyes had popped open. Harry had been so scared for a moment that he was caught and Draco was going to freak, but then Draco just took off for the bathroom. When Draco came back, he lay down back where he’d been before and closed his eyes, completely failing to mention anything about the awkward position Harry had been caught in. At this point Harry had been confused and didn’t know whether it was safe to scoot in next to Draco again or if he should maintain some distance. But then Draco pulled Harry’s arm over to his baby bump and drifted off to sleep like that, signaling that the touching was okay with him.

            So touching Draco was now something Harry knew was alright, but he didn’t know if that applied to talking to the baby or not. And Harry especially didn’t think rutting against Draco was at all acceptable behavior.

            Harry reached out, placing a hand on either side of Draco’s belly, and waited for their baby to move, hoping to feel that wondrous sensation again. He felt connected with his little princess when he felt it, as if they were bonding. She probably didn’t even know Harry was there, but somehow he felt they were growing close and forming that parent-baby bond. He fancied that she would come out and recognize him; maybe it was stupid and deluded, but there it was.

            Princess Potter kicked Harry’s left hand. He smiled and whispered, “You’re such a good little girl; Daddy loves you. I bet my mum and dad would love you too.”

            Now that he was becoming a parent, Harry often thought about his own parents. He imagined how his mum would dote on her granddaughter, tying ribbons in her black hair. Lily would probably be just as baby crazy as Cissy was…in fact the two would probably have put aside their difference by now and teamed up to buy everything a baby girl could ever want.

            Cissy alone probably would’ve bought out quite a few stores, if not for the Malfoy’s money problems and the fact that the Ministry had frozen their accounts. Even with the very limited allowance Cissy had to live on, she still managed to pick up baby items every now and then. Harry had gone to Kingsley and asked that Cissy be allowed access to the Malfoy vaults, because her charges had been dropped. But Kingsley said the courts were holding the vaults while they figured out how large of a fine the Malfoy family ought to be charged in reparations for their war crimes. That money was Lucius’ after all and he would undoubtedly be found guilty.

            It was a shame that their daughter would have so few grandparents. Cissy was the only one left out of four people who really weren’t all that old. Lucius was in Azkaban and likely to remain there for the rest of his life, and would never get to be a real grandfather. But at least Lucius was still alive, which was better than Harry’s parents. His dad James had been killed by Voldemort, to get to Lily and Harry. His mum Lily had given her life to protect Harry, invoking the old magic that had allowed him to survive the killing curse. It was a shame that she had sacrificed herself for him, Harry thought.

            At least now that the baby was coming, Harry’s mother’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vein. He had an heir to pass on her love to; someone to live for and who would invariably become a fixture in his life. Others had always told him that it was enough that he survived and lived his life to the fullest to make Lily Potter’s sacrifice worth it, but he had never thought that highly of himself. After all of those years with the Dursleys, he could never comprehend that his life was worth anything, let alone the life of another person. But this baby was not him, although she was made from him, and he could see the worth in his baby, for all of her unknown potential. She was worth his mother’s sacrifice and he thought his parents would be proud to be her grandparents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is beginning to realize that he’s sexually attracted to Draco. I think next week Draco might just do something to push Harry along…  
> In regards to names, Lyra received the most votes. One reviewer suggested finding a flower name that both Harry and Draco would like, such as Linnaea (Lin-nae-a). I did some searching and found the name Ipheion (if'-ee-on), which means starflower and would combine both of the naming traditions in their family. And another reader suggested the name Corona. Any thoughts on these names or a suggestion of another name? It will be several chapters yet before the baby is born, so we have plenty of time left to come up with the perfect name :)


	21. Chapter21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the reason I rated this story Mature. If you are underage, please do not read the smut that follows.

Draco was about seven months pregnant and Harry was starting to have serious misgivings about Draco sleeping with him. Draco had been slipping into Harry’s bed for months now and nothing sinister on Draco’s part had happened; on Harry’s part there’d been misplaced erections, inappropriate dreams, and secret communication with the baby. But that morning Harry was woken up by the feel of soft lips pressed against his lips. He had been dreaming again and the sensation fit right in with the dream, so he awoke slowly, not noticing at first that it wasn’t all a dream…he might have even kissed back.  
It was the same dream he’d been having for the last two weeks, with an unidentified figure in his bed. He could never see the face, but sometimes there was blond hair grasped in his fingers or the ample curve of a pregnant belly under his hand. If he was more objective he might realize that the body wasn’t inconsistent with Draco’s body, but he wasn’t the least bit objective about it; it was his sex dreams after all and he was still telling himself he was straight. He never remembered much detail about the figure and he sure didn’t recall which bits, if any, the body had down there, which made his denial easier to sustain.   
It was the straight hips and curve of the arse Harry had been dreaming of this time, which was rather typical of his dreams. There was pale creamy skin covering the arse and in his dream he tended to fixate on that skin, reaching out to feel it under his fingertips. Sometimes long, slender fingers would push his hands away, but this time the hands didn’t push him away. This time the hands were on his shoulders and the pert arse had turned around, so that it was the large baby bump pressed into his chest and stomach. He didn’t much mind the loss of the arse from his view, because he was reaching around, maintaining a handful of the warm mound in his hand. And then it was his lips burning with the sensation of the gentle kiss. He hadn’t been kissed by anyone in so long that the simple touch felt exquisite on his sensitive lips. He would’ve liked nothing more than to turn over and slip deeper into this snogging dream.   
But reality unfortunately crept in and Harry began to realize that it wasn’t all in his dream. At first in his half-asleep state he couldn’t determine which of the sensations had been real and which had been the dream. His hand still seemed full, cupping the behind of the hot body in his arms, so that was likely real. Then he opened his eyes that Saturday morning to find Draco kissing him! His desire to snog someone senseless suddenly evaporated on the spot when he realized that the kiss was real and more importantly, was with Draco.  
Harry pulled away at the same time as he gently pushed Draco off of him. Draco was in his third trimester now, so Harry knew he had to be careful moving Draco, but he still wanted to increase the separation between their lips and his hand and Draco’s arse, as quickly as possible.  
“What are you doing?” Harry’s question was directed at himself just as much as Draco.  
“Sorry,” Draco said, looking upset.  
“Why did you do that?”   
“You were touching me…” Draco trailed off, not knowing how to say this and hoping Harry would fill in the rest. But Harry didn’t help him out; instead Harry just stared at him with a shocked expression, waiting for him to say more. Draco shrugged and looked down before speaking again. “I just wanted to know what it’s like.”  
“I reckon it’s about the same as snogging anyone else,” Harry said, choosing to ignore Draco’s accusation for the time being; he was desperately in need of some self-introspection in that matter before he could discuss it with anyone else.   
Draco didn’t say anything and wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes; instead he kept looking down at his very swollen belly.   
“You have kissed someone else before, haven’t you?” Harry asked. Draco shook his head. “Fuck.” This was beyond messed up. Not only was Draco a pregnant virgin, but Draco had never even kissed anyone. No wonder Draco tried to kiss him!   
Harry had been looking up at the ceiling, trying to think of what to say, but when he looked down again, Draco was gone. Obviously Harry had said the wrong thing and made Draco run off, so he went across the hallway to Draco’s room. Draco was on his own bed for a change and looked like he was trying not to cry.   
“Look, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Harry said. “I’m not mad at you, I just think it’s pretty messed up what Voldemort did to you. I don’t want to encourage you; in fact I don’t think that should happen again, but I’m not mad at you. Alright?”  
Draco nodded and said in a soft, unsure voice, “But you were groping me again.”  
“I’m sorry; it was just a dream,” Harry replied, realization starting to set in. All those sexual dreams…had he really been touching Draco the whole time? He spent several minutes contemplating it, but couldn’t put two thoughts together in a row that made any sense at all. In an effort to salvage what was left of his sanity, he pushed the confusing thoughts away, resolving to deal with them later. Draco too seemed willing to ignore the issue rather than work through it.  
Harry hoped that would be the end of it. They got dressed and went about their day as if nothing had happened. Ron came over and they hung out. Ron, after his talk with Harry during Auror training, was very careful in what he said. Mostly Harry and Ron talked about their latest Auror experiences and how much they missed Hermione, while Draco sat in a nearby chair and worked on the blanket he was knitting. The blanket was a bit wonky in places, but it was long enough now that Harry could definitely tell that it was supposed to be a blanket.  
Ron was still weary that this tentative friendship built around a shared child might crumble and that Harry would be hurt in the process, but Ron certainly wasn’t going to cause any problems for his best friend. Ron was doing his best to keep his mouth shut and his foot out of it, when it came to Draco. Truthfully the idea of an emotional, pregnant, and crying Draco scared the shite out of him and the last thing he wanted to do was give anyone an excuse to start talking about their feelings around him. Miraculously that translated to Harry’s best friend and the father of his first born peacefully coexisting in sort of a mutually agreed upon arrangement of completely avoiding any serious discussion when in each other’s presence. In fact their only mutual conversations seem to revolve around food and convincing Harry to take them out for hamburgers and ice cream.  
Ron’s visit went without incident, unless you count the massive brain freeze Harry got from all of the ice cream, but when his friend left, Harry was once again left alone with Draco. Both Harry and Draco completely ignored the kiss and acted like it hadn’t happened. Harry tried to tell himself that it didn’t happen and that everything was just the same as it was. But what Harry didn’t anticipate was what that kiss would do to his dreams. In the days that followed the kiss, the faceless figure from his dreams took on a face; a familiar pointy face.  
Harry had never even considered Draco in a sexual manner before; he didn’t count those sex dreams, because he hadn’t known it was Draco he was dreaming about and he was holding tight to his denial. This was all due to the fact that he was lonely without Ginny and Draco was always there. And then with the kiss and Draco being pregnant with Harry’s baby, it was only natural that he’d start dreaming of Draco, wasn’t it? That’s what Harry told himself anyways. Only he couldn’t help but remember the dreams when he was awake and he began looking at Draco in a new light. He frequently found himself staring at Draco’s plump red lips when Draco talked. Then there was the delicate arch of Draco’s neck that Harry found memorizing. And don’t even get him started on the curve of Draco’s arse.  
Worst of all was the hot press of Draco’s skin against his late at night; the first time he’d consciously gotten a hard on from another man was because of that. Somehow the innocent bonding with their unborn baby had turned into erotic touching, without anything physical actually changing, unless you counted Harry’s boner. He’d been so freaked out he’d jumped out of bed and gone to the bathroom to calm down.  
I’m just horny. It’s not Draco per se, it’s just that he’s the only one around, Harry told himself. Then he figured that the solution to his problem was to jack off. If he wasn’t so horny, he wouldn’t be having these thoughts about Draco. Only the jacking off made the thoughts worse, not better, and he began having fantasies about Draco while he wanked. Wanking to thoughts of Draco really freaked Harry out and he couldn’t go back to bed that night, especially because Draco was still in his bed, which was the problem in the first place.  
Draco was really starting to get big and Harry told himself that he was just getting his signals crossed, because Draco was pregnant and that was something only women did. Harry had obviously begun to think of Draco as a woman and that was why he was having the strange fantasies.   
Maybe if Harry could just see enough of Draco’s body to be reminded that Draco really was a wizard, the dreams and urges would go away. The problem with that was that Draco kept his body covered up, likely trying to hide the pregnancy belly, so Harry couldn’t even get a glimpse of Draco’s flat chest. If he saw that again and the distinct lack of boobs, he was sure his problem would go away. And that is what was going through Harry’s head when he decided he was going to get a glimpse of Draco’s body.  
Harry thought about ways he could see Draco in the bath or the shower or maybe even just taking a whizz, but the bathroom was small and Draco was always so careful about shutting the door. Harry had his invisibility cloak, but it would be so much easier if he was in a larger room with an unobstructed view, like a bedroom. Draco changed clothes every morning and again every night and if Harry could just go into Draco’s room wearing his invisibility cloak, he was sure to see something. And that is just what Harry did one night when Draco was still in the drawing room.  
It felt like Harry waited forever before Draco finally came into the room and shut the door behind him. Draco went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas. Draco got side tracked brushing his hair and then looking at himself in the mirror. Harry thought Draco was never going to get around to taking his clothes off, but then Draco finally stood up and pulled off his shirt. Draco’s chest was pale and thin, with a hint of fatty deposits forming, preparing to change his body for the breast feeding that was to come. Then there was the large protruding belly. Draco was just entering the third trimester, so his belly looked out of place on his thin frame and the happy twitch from Harry’s cock reminded him of the role that belly had played in his dreams.  
Harry’s breathing sped up and he suddenly couldn’t remember if he’d cast a muffling charm on himself or not. He knew he’d cast a notice-me-not charm, despite the invisibility cloak, because the last thing he wanted was for Draco to catch him spying. But he couldn’t remember if he’d done the muffling charm too and his heart was pounding so hard he worried that Draco would be able to hear it.   
It didn’t even occur to Harry that he had what he’d wanted—a view of Draco’s chest—and he had the opposite reaction to the one he predicted. If there was any blood at all left to service the larger of his two heads, he would’ve realized that his mission was accomplished and it was time to turn his eyes away; unfortunately, it was only his little head receiving the oxygen rich blood supply in that moment and the little head told him to keep looking. He listened and he drooled too.  
Draco didn’t notice any of it. Instead Draco dropped his trousers, giving Harry an excellent view of a pair of pert round cheeks inside Draco’s pants. Well that obviously wasn’t helping, because witches had arses too. Plus the pregnancy in the front was spilling over onto Draco’s once thin hips, making him look more feminine. Those two factors explained Harry’s erection. It had nothing to do with the fact that this was Draco’s arse, it was simply that this was the first arse he’d seen in months. If only Draco would turn around and give Harry a view of something that most definitely didn’t belong on a witch. This logic of course required one to forget Harry’s initial reaction to seeing Draco’s front and Harry wasn’t even acknowledging that it had happened.  
Draco didn’t turn around. Instead Draco dropped his pants exposing a pair of perfect pink globes covered in pale flawlessly smooth skin that Harry wanted to touch to see if it was as soft as it was in his dream. Harry’s cock was throbbing in his pants at the sight. Harry’s hand absentmindedly lowered and stroked himself through his robes. He must have cast the muffling charm after all, because he let out a moan and Draco’s head didn’t turn. Draco carried right on with what he was doing, which was pulling up a clean pair of pants, re-clothing that perfect arse.  
Then Draco put on a pair of pajamas, ending any chance Harry might have of glimpsing more. This whole peeping Tom thing had been for not, because Harry was now even more turned on by Draco than he had been before. Not to mention the painful erection Harry had when he was trapped in the room without being able to do anything about it. He thought his ballocks were going to explode from the pressure and that Draco was never going to open the door to let Harry out of the room. But then Draco did leave the room and Harry was finally able to exit.  
Harry saw Draco disappear into the bathroom. Harry sighed with relief as he went upstairs into Sirius’ old bedroom, so that he wouldn’t be interrupted. He spelled the door closed behind him so that he could finally, finally wank. It was a very satisfying wank and he couldn’t ever remember cumming so hard in his life; not even with Ginny. Obviously he was in desperate need of self-introspection, but that was a hard thing to do. Somehow it always led back to thoughts of Draco, which led to rapid toss offs behind locked doors. He had a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m fairly certain Draco told a fib in this chapter: he’s kissed Pansy. They went to the Yule Ball together, so after their date, he probably felt obligated to kiss her. But with him being gay, I’m sure it was awful and he wouldn’t count it. He’s never had a proper snog from a bloke before.  
> Up next will be the baby shower! Please Review.


	22. Chapter22

            Draco was so big now that he had trouble walking. Harry was always worried about Draco falling down and getting hurt, so he tended to keep his arm wrapped around Draco’s back and hooked under Draco’s arm. Draco never complained about it and in fact seemed happy to lean into Harry. And Harry enjoyed having Draco that close to him, with Draco’s warm skin constantly brushing against his in the most innocently erotic way. Needless to say, Harry’s thing for Draco hadn’t diminished.

            Harry had finally gotten around to that self-introspection he so desperately needed. At first he’d thought it was just Draco he was attracted to, but that wasn’t the case. He’d never considered men sexually before, but now he had to admit that they were hot. Muggles had many illicit magazines full of naked pictures illustrating that fact. Once he’d tossed off thinking of cock he’d no choice but to admit to himself that he was at least partially gay. Witches hadn’t been doing it for him lately and he didn’t know whether that was because of his crush on Draco or if he was completely gay; the answer would come in time and he didn’t dwell on it.

            As far as wizards went, Draco made excellent fantasy material, even pregnant. Harry thought he was lucky to be having a baby by someone who looked so good doing it. Draco had ballooned up to twice his original size, but that was all right where their baby was. The rest of Draco’s body was still slender and his arse definitely hadn’t suffered. Sometimes Harry tossed off to memories of Draco before the pregnancy, recalling the straight line of Draco’s formerly flat torso. But either way, Draco was definitely fuckable.

            Harry hadn’t yet decided what he was going to do about his crush or his sexuality. It was still new and he was wary of messing things up. They had a long history together that had only been friendly for the last few months and a slew of possible intervening factors just waiting to interfere. There were Harry’s friends and Draco’s family to consider. And most importantly, there was their unborn daughter to think about; the last thing Harry wanted was to damage his friendship with the bearer of his child and make their lives forever awkward. Their little princess didn’t deserve that.

            Thus Harry was determined to wait, think things through, and not rush into anything, which meant continuing life as usual. He went to work, spent time with Ron, and slept in the same bed as Draco, trying to keep everything exactly the same and not give himself away. Sometimes his hands or his cock gave him away while he was sleeping, but Draco seemed just as capable as Harry of ignoring it.

            Harry had thought that things would go back to being awkward after the groping incident, but they didn’t and Draco never said anything. Some mornings Harry would wake up to find his hand back on Draco’s bum and Draco looking at him with an odd, contemplative look. But they never talked about it and once they got out of bed, the spell broke, and they went back to acting like it never happen. Harry worried each morning that this would be the day Draco would say something, but all Draco ever talked about was the baby and upcoming baby shower that Molly was planning.

            Harry planned to stick right by Draco the entire baby shower, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about Draco tripping over the garden gnomes. That and he felt intimidated by the prospect of attending a party in which a bunch of women were to shower Draco with baby gifts, swap birthing stories, and other such pregnancy related things. But the baby shower didn’t go as Harry planned, because the moment he apparated with Draco to the Burrow, Dromeda and Teddy were there waiting for them.

            Teddy reached out his chubby little hands towards Harry and said, “Dada,” and then grunted. His hair changed from grey with a little bit of black in it to all black and his eyes shifted from blue to green, making it blatantly obvious who he wanted.

            Harry had no clue why Teddy would want him, but apparently Teddy did. And he wasn’t expecting it, but Dromeda took advantage of his free right arm to push Teddy off on him, saying, “Oh look, he wants you Harry. I’ll just take Draco.” And then before he knew it, Draco was being pulled from his left arm, leaving an empty feeling behind, and Dromeda was helping Draco walk over to an armchair set up in the middle of the party.

            Left with no choice in the matter, Harry pulled Teddy tight against his chest with both arms and hoped that he wouldn’t drop the baby in front of all these women. Teddy hit Harry’s chest with a spittle soaked hand and squealed in delight, which Harry took as direction to get moving. Harry followed after Dromeda and Draco and took the open seat by Draco’s chair. He looked around for a woman to pass the baby off to and Fleur took that moment to come over and start cooing about how cute Teddy was. Thus Harry passed Teddy to Fleur and sighed in relief.

            Harry stole a look at Draco, his eyes lingering on Draco’s plump bottom lip, but Fleur wanted his attention, so he turned back to her; after all, she had just rescued him from Teddy detail and it was the least he could do.

            “This iz so wonde’ful, yes?” Fleur asked Harry, bouncing Teddy on her knee. Harry didn’t know what she was talking about, so he raised one eyebrow inquisitively. “You have leetle Teddy and this new babee on ze way and now I am pregnant too. We will ‘ave three babeez in the family to play together.”

            Harry hadn’t realized Fleur was pregnant and he wondered when that had happened, because Fleur didn’t look fat yet. But at least he was pretty sure what he was supposed to say here. “Congratulations Fleur. You and Bill must be so happy.”

            “Yes, we are. It couldn’t ‘ave ‘appened at a better time,” Fleur replied.

            The party got underway with games and pregnancy chatter and Harry found Teddy pushed back into his arms. He didn’t mind so much though, because it meant he was excused from the ridiculousness of it all. Besides, Teddy always had his back, from that very first time Teddy had helped with his bottle, to the time Draco had heartburn and Teddy stopped crying the instant Harry picked him up. And now Teddy was smiling and laughing at everyone and calling Harry, “Dada,” which made everyone compliment Harry’s parenting and say things like, “Oh, he must love you Harry; I can tell.”

            Harry wasn’t so sure if Teddy loved him. In fact Harry was a bit torn by the fact that Remus was Teddy’s father and he didn’t ever want Teddy to forget that. Remus was a great man and his son should know that. He found himself pulling out a picture of Tonks and Remus from his wallet, where he kept it always on him along with a few other such photos of the many people he’d lost. He showed it to Teddy and said, “This is your daddy Teddy and this is your mummy.”

            Teddy reached out with one pointed, slimy finger and touched the photo, asking, “Dada?”

            “Yes, that’s your dada,” Harry replied.

            Draco leaned over then and said quietly so that only Harry would hear, “He’s just a baby Harry, he calls half of the people he meets Dada. It’s not betraying his parents to let him call you that. In fact, from what I know of Professor Lupin, he’d be honored to have you looking after his son like a father.” As Draco spoke, Harry noticed how his translucent grey eyes shown and sparkled. Draco really did have pretty eyes and they were also a nice, attractive shape.

            That was probably one of the sweetest things Draco had ever said to Harry, so Harry leaned in and kissed Draco on the cheek, before placing another kiss to the top of Draco’s belly. Draco was comfortable now with Harry’s platonic touching and kissing the baby.

            “Thank you,” Harry whispered and Draco smiled at him, before turning back to the games. Draco’s smiles were intoxicating and addictive and Harry found that he was living more and more each day for those smiles. It took a smack on the face from Teddy to stop Harry from drooling over the lingering smile.

            Later there was cake and food, which meant Harry could indulge in one of his new favorite pastimes: watching Draco eat. Being in the last trimester of his pregnancy, Draco ate a lot and frequently. There was something pleasing about bringing Draco a plate piled high with food and then watching him eat it all. Ice cream was probably Harry’s favorite thing to watch Draco eat, because of all of the licking involved, but cakes and puddings were high up on his list too. When something was really good, Draco’s eyes would roll back and the bliss was written on his face.

            After the food came the presents. Every witch there, and there were a lot of witches crammed into Molly’s living room, came with a large bag full of clothes. A few of them had boxes and there was even one very large box in the room, but mostly there were brightly colored bags tied with ribbons. Inside those bags turned out to be dozens of pieces of tiny girly clothes. There were nightgowns, dresses, little pink undershirts, and matching shoes, socks, bibs, and burp-cloths. And for some reason, the women cooed and looked adoringly at all this stuff.

            The large box was from George and Angelina. George wasn’t there, but he had paid for the gift Angelina picked out. Draco and Harry were the only wizards allowed, because of some unwritten rule that baby showers were for witches.

            Draco bent forward awkwardly to tear back the colorful paper and Harry worried he’d fall, but he didn’t. It was a pram and infant carseat set in a flowery pattern.

            Molly took one look at the pram and said, “Oh it’s perfect. If you two give your little girl a flower name, like your mothers had, then she’ll be a little flower riding around in a flowered pram.

            “Draco, have you decided on a name yet?” Cissy asked, organizing stacks of already opened gifts.

            “No and I was leaning towards the stars,” Draco replied.

            “Oh, like what dear?” Dromeda asked.

            “I like Lyra, Cassiopeia, and Carina,” Draco said with a shrug.

            “And what about you Harry? What would you name your daughter?” Cissy asked.

            Harry answered without thinking about it. The name just popped out of his mouth of its own volition. “Lily.” He looked at Draco expectantly, hoping that Draco might just like the name.

            “Lily…I’m allergic to Lilies; they make me sneeze,” Draco replied, biting his bottom lip with his perfectly straight bright white teeth. He had nice teeth, Harry thought.

            “It doesn’t matter what her name was, does it? Either way, it’s the name of a mudblood and no Malfoy would be caught dead naming their child after a mudblood,” Augusta Longbottom said angrily.

            “You take that back! That’s my great granddaughter’s grandmother you’re talking about!” Druella Black shouted back, getting in Augusta’s face.

            Augusta shouted her reply, “You have some nerve! Why it was your daughter Bellatrix who put my son in hospital for the rest of his life!”

            Harry didn’t know what to do about the two old ladies going at each other and he was worried that any moment now it was going to turn physical and someone was going to break a hip. He’d really had no idea these baby showers could turn violent. Molly had just described it as a bunch of middle aged women getting together to prattle on about how cute little dresses were.

            Luckily Ron and Neville arrived then to save the day. Neville stepped in between Madam Black and Madam Longbottom, while Ron watched from the doorway. Harry had seen them outside earlier, talking. Obviously Neville had come with his gran and went off with Ron, since wizards weren’t invited.

            “Gran! What do you think you’re doing? This is a baby shower not a boxing ring,” Neville said boldly; he’d really grown up in the last year or so. He was taller now too.

            “Neville, this woman is the mother of Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who-” Neville cut Augusta off.

            “I know who Madam Black is, Gran, and my statement stands. This is a baby shower meant to celebrate that my friend Harry is having a baby. Madam Black is the other father’s gran, so she has a right to be here. Now I asked you to come and give Harry my gift for me, but if you can’t get along, then you can go home. I don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened if Ron and I hadn’t heard you from outside.”

            “But Neville, your parents!”

            “Draco and Harry had nothing to do with that, nor was Bellatrix’s mum responsible. Now go,” Neville ordered.

            Augusta looked like she was going to challenge her grandson or pull him over her knee for a spank, but then she just turned on the spot and disapparated away.

            Neville turned to Druella Black and said, “I’m sorry Madam Black to you and your family for the scene my gran caused. I just wanted to give Harry and Draco my gift and then I’ll go back outside with Ron; I was showing him how to tend the garden to get proper looking roses.”

            Druella had her stubborn old look about her, but she looked to her youngest daughter and kept her thin lips in a firm line, not speaking. Cissy stepped forward.

            “It’s fine Neville, honestly. You’re a pleasant young man and I would like to apologize to you and your family on behalf of my insane late sister. The world is better off without her,” Cissy said. She really did look a lot like Draco. Draco had Lucius’ coloring and the sharpness of his face, but the rest was all Cissy.

            “Thank you,” Neville replied.

            “Now, what did a kind young man like yourself want to give Harry for the baby?” Cissy asked, trying to get this baby shower back on track.

            “It’s a plant…well it’s two plants really, here,” Neville said, going over to the corner and retrieving the two potted plants from where his gran had left them. “You see, I was talking to Daphne Greengrass the other day—she came by the greenhouse I’m working at with her fiancé looking for flowers for the wedding—anyway, we got to mentioning how unexpected it was that their friend Draco and my friend Harry were having a daughter together. I mentioned that I wanted to get you the perfect plant for the nursery, but I didn’t know anything about Draco’s preferences. Daphne said that she was sure Draco would give the baby a celestial name, so I thought the starflower would be a perfect gift. Only I had two different species growing in the greenhouse, both with the common name starflower. The one here with the hairy leaves is _Borago officinalis_ and is an edible plant found locally, so it’s safe enough to put in the nursery. This other one though, _Ipheion uniflorum magicaea_ , is a magical variety of a South American plant. It’s useful in teething potions and other remedies, so it would be a good thing to have in the garden, but not actually in the house where a small child could chew on it. Anyway, I just thought I would give you one of each and let you decide. I’d be happy to plant these in the ground for you or to explain how to care for them if you like. Um, I’ll just be going now.”

            “Neville, wait, these are really great. You clearly put a lot of thought into this gift,” Harry said, stepping forward to clap Neville on the shoulder.

            “Yes, these are both beautiful,” Draco said, looking kindly at Neville. Harry hadn’t seen kindness on Draco’s face before the pregnancy, but it really suited him; it softened up all those harsh Malfoy lines. “Borago is one of my favorites and this other one, the if…”

            “If-ee-on,” Neville supplied.

            “Yes that. It’s really nice too. Thank you so much for the gift. I was going to do pink for the nursery, but now with the borago, I’m thinking a nice cream will go well,” Draco replied.

            “You mean it?” Neville asked excitedly, cheeks flushed.

            “Yeah Neville, thank you so much,” Harry added, thinking that Draco was being unusually kind. But then Draco had been kinder since the pregnancy. Harry thought it most likely had to do with Lucius not being around to impress with cruel behavior. Maybe this was the real Draco and the other had been an act put on for his father… or maybe he had changed. Either way Harry liked the new Draco and thought that he wasn’t a bad person to be sharing a child with.

            Neville nodded with a dopey smile and went back outside and the gift giving continued.

* * *

 

            “Harry, do you think we could get someone to paint a mural of borago flowers on the wall?” Draco asked, looking over the empty nursery after Harry finished painting it the crème Draco had requested. It was a lot more work than it looked like, because he’d had to pull down the ancient wallpaper and then scrub the glue from the walls, before priming and then painting. But Draco thought the nursery would look better in crème and Harry wanted Draco to have it; it was the least he could do after Draco had been so nice to Neville at the baby shower. A potted plant wasn’t even something one needed for a baby, which was a fact Draco hadn’t mentioned. It was an odd, dorky gift, but Draco hadn’t made fun of Neville for it.

            “You really like them? I thought you were just being nice to my friend,” Harry replied.

            “I was being nice too, but they are these really lovely star-shaped blue flowers. The only problem is it isn’t blooming and I’d like to see the flowers in here, even when it’s out of season.”

            “Yeah, alright. I was thinking of making the room unicorn themed, to go with that children’s story, but we can do flowers if that’s what you want. I’ll ask Neville to find me someone who can paint and knows what they look like,” Harry replied.

            “Great! And maybe we can add in a unicorn eating the flowers in you want unicorns.”

            “Brilliant. In the meantime, I guess we should still put the furniture your mum is bringing over in here. I’ll just move it out when the painter comes.”

            Narcissa was scheduled to come by later that day with the Malfoy Nursery furniture, because Draco wanted their daughter to sleep in the same crib he’d slept in as a baby. Harry had stopped by Malfoy Manor last week to inspect it, to ensure that it was good enough for their little princess. It was holding up remarkably well, given its age and was covered in beautiful carvings of abraxans, so it met with Harry’s approval.

            “No, I don’t want to risk getting paint on it. It’s been in my family for three hundred years. We’ll just put it in my room for now.”

            “Draco, your room is full up with all of the baby shower gifts. You won’t be able to reach your dresser.”

            “Then move my dresser to your room or put some of the baby things up on the third floor. When are you going to get around to clearing out the third floor?”

            Harry had never thought about clearing out the third floor, because that was where Regulus and Sirius’ old rooms were and he hadn’t wanted to disturb any of it. But this was their house now and every room on the second floor was occupied. If he really expected Draco to live here with him and their baby permanently, perhaps he should create more space for them. He didn’t want to disturb Sirius and Regulus’ things, but for Draco, he considered doing just that.

            “I’ll go move your dresser; you sleep in my room every night anyway,” Harry said, secretly glad that they were throwing away the pretense of Draco having his own room when he hadn’t used it in so long. He liked the idea of having Draco in his bed every night, despite the sexual problems it caused him.

            “Alright, but we still need more room for baby stuff. Aunt Dromeda is going to stop by this week with a bunch of hand-me-downs from Edward.”

            “Hand-me-downs? After all that stuff we got at the baby shower and the Malfoy furniture your mum is bringing, what more could we possibly need?”

            “A baby bathtub, infant seat, and a basinet. There’s no point buying them new when a baby only uses them for such a short period of time.”

            Draco was always surprising Harry with things like this. Harry would’ve thought that Draco would never accept a hand-me-down, especially from the child of a half-blood and a werewolf, but he did. Obviously Draco wasn’t discriminating against Teddy and wasn’t as stuck up and snobbish as Harry used to think. Or maybe it was that Draco really had changed.

            “What do we need a basinet for? Your mum is meant to be bringing a crib and a cradle.”

            “You can never have too many places to put a baby down,” Draco answered.

            “If you say so. Maybe you can work on figuring out how you want the mural to look; that would help the painter. You know, draw a sketch of it, while I go move your dresser,” Harry suggested.

            Draco agreed and went off to find some drawing supplies.

            Later that night, when Harry was pulling Draco into bed with him, he said, “The nursery is really coming together, isn’t it?”

            “Yes…” Draco trailed off, snuggling in closer to Harry.

            They were spooning now, with Harry molding his body around Draco’s. Harry didn’t know when it had started, but he did know that he liked it. He’d stopped worrying about it being a homosexual position, because he was a homosexual and that was no longer something he could deny to himself. He liked being that close to Draco and their baby and he wrapped his arm around Draco now, resting it under the swell of Draco’s ample belly.

            “Are you worried about the painting? I said I would find someone.”

            “No, it’s not that…”

            “Then what is it? Are we missing something?”

            “Yes…”

            “What?”

            “The swing; no one got us a swing and my mother said we can’t afford it this month with Father’s attorney fees.”

            Lucius’ trial date had come and Draco had begged to go. Harry had escorted Draco down to the Ministry to witness his father chained to the chair in the middle of the old courtroom in the lower level. It was horrible and Harry hadn’t been looking forward to the trial with Draco so heavily pregnant. In fact, Draco’s state was what Lucius’ lawyers used to get the trial pushed back another six months. Draco was a major witness for their defense and he was in no state to endure the trial, so Lucius wanted it postponed. Harry got up and seconded that motion and it had past.

            But even though the trial was postponed, the lawyers had to be paid. The Ministry was still freezing the Malfoy family’s Gringotts account and most unfairly, they were refusing to allow Cissy to withdraw the money for Lucius’ defense from said accounts. That meant the money coming in from the Malfoy’s computer chip business was being used to pay the attorney fees, leaving little money to pay for baby things.

            The business was run under the table, so the Ministry didn’t know about it. Harry thought that refusing Lucius proper council was unfair, so he didn’t bother enlightening the Ministry. Instead, when Kingsley called him in to question him on the matter of how the Malfoys were financing Lucius’ attorney, Harry had lied and said that the attorney was working for free. The Malfoys were loyal, regular clients and happened to also be related to Lucius’ attorney and as such, Kingsley was led to believe that the lawyer trusted that he would be paid after what is left of the Malfoy vaults is turned over to Cissy. In reality Cissy was giving every knut from the computer chips to the lawyer and didn’t have enough money to buy more than the smallest things for Draco and the baby.

            “I’ll buy the swing,” Harry offered. He hadn’t paid for anything but the paint so far and he was happy to have something he could contribute.

            “Are you sure? It’s an expensive swing I want.”

            “Yes, I’m sure. It’s fine.”

            “And I don’t want some muggle swing. You’ll have to actually brave a wizarding store to get it.”

            Harry still had an aversion to shopping in the wizarding world. He didn’t even like to leave the Auror section of the Ministry, because whenever he did, someone took his picture, asked his for an autograph, and wrote a story about it for the Prophet. It was bloody ridiculous the way people were still obsessed with him like he was some celebrity, even though the war ended months ago. He thought the wizarding world ought to have moved on by now, but they hadn’t, which meant he was still buying everything by owl order or having Kreacher buy it.

            “I’m Harry Potter; I’m sure whichever store it is will agree to take my business by owl. And if they don’t, I’ll send Ron in to get it for me.”

            “Weasley? He has no eye for decorating; he’ll probably choose one that clashes with the décor.”

            “Then I’ll go with him under my invisibility cloak. But I don’t know why you think I’d have a better decorating sense; you’ve seen my house.”

            “You’re right; your decorating sense is nonexistent. Maybe you could send a woman to pick it up; Molly or Aunt Dromeda or someone.”

            “Or your mum.” Harry thought that Draco wouldn’t be able to blame his own mother, if Cissy picked out the wrong swing.

            “No, the Ministry is tailing her again. They’re convinced she has a secret stock pile of galleons hidden somewhere, so they’re monitoring all of her purchases.”

            Harry groaned. He was about to publically declare that he was funding Lucius’ defense just to get the Ministry off of Cissy. She was the only grandparent of his daughter and he was tired of the way she was being treated. You wouldn’t know that the Ministry had dropped all charges against her with the way they were hounding her. He’d tried going over to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and asking them to lay off of Cissy before, but he’d been rebuffed and in the process discovered just how little the MLE was willing to cooperate with the Auror Corps. And Kingsley wasn’t taking Harry’s side on this, but then it was a political matter, because the wizarding public wanted Malfoy blood and if they didn’t get it, Kingsley wouldn’t be re-elected.

            “How about if I send Ron and your mum together? Cissy can pick it out and Ron can pay, using my galleons,” Harry suggested.

            “That could work,” Draco said with a yawn.

            “Then that’s settled.”

            Harry snuggled in tighter next to Draco, nuzzling Draco’s neck with his nose and taking in a whiff of Draco’s scent. Draco smelled of vanilla and jasmine, from his bath earlier. They drifted off to sleep together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something major will happen next chapter…The climax of the story is coming; I hope Harry and Draco are ready for it.  
> Please Review!


	23. Chapter23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this twist came from Jax, one of my readers on AO3. This is a much better climax than anything I was thinking of, so thank you Jax!

            It was a miserably cold winter’s day in early December when it happened. Harry and Ron and the rest of the recruits were just coming in to take a break from their snow-laden obstacle course and warm up by the fire, when Molly bustled in.

            At first Harry assumed that Molly was there to chew him out for what he’d done to Draco that morning. He’d thought she would at least wait until he got home, but he had made Draco cry. He hadn’t meant to of course, it had just happened. It was another of his dreams; a wet dream this time. He’d woken up to find Draco crying. When he’d moved to push himself up, he’d noticed the squishy wet feeling of cum in his pants. He’d most likely gotten that way by rubbing against Draco.

            Harry didn’t know how much Draco had seen or felt, but it was obvious that Draco had some idea of what had happened. Harry had said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” hoping to placate Draco enough to stop the tears.

            It’d been the wrong thing to say, as evidenced by the sob Draco let out then and the fact that he’d hurried to his room, spelling it locked behind him. Harry had tried going after him, but Draco wouldn’t open the door. Harry had then decided to give Draco a bit of time, showering, eating, and getting ready for work, before going back to Draco’s door to try again. This time door was open and the room empty. Going downstairs, Harry found Draco in the kitchen eating breakfast with a dry face, but Draco hadn’t wanted to talk about it and Harry had to get to work.

            Harry had left for work with a promise in his heart that they’d talk about this when he got home. Obviously the experience had upset Draco and Harry needed to apologize properly. He was sending mixed signals by denying his attraction during the day and giving into it in his dreams. He’d had plenty of time to think about it and had decided that a relationship with Draco was worth the risk. He just hadn’t figured out how to tell Draco that; he hadn’t even told Draco he was gay yet. But he had put it off long enough and he decided that this time he was going to tell Draco how he felt when he got home.

            Had Draco told Molly about this morning while Harry was at work? The incident jumped firmly to the forefront of Harry’s mind as the most likely reason behind her visit. Why else would she interrupt him and Ron while they were working?

            “Ron! Harry!” Molly called, panting and half out of breath.

            All heads turned to witness what promised to be an embarrassing mothering moment. They probably thought it was Ron she was here for, thinking Ron had forgotten his lunch or something. They didn’t know that Harry expected something much worse from the witch. Harry’s groan of embarrassment left his lips before he even knew what she was here for.

            “Mum?” Ron asked. “What are you doing here?”

            “It’s Draco! He’s been kidnapped!” Molly answered.

            And then it dawned on Harry: today was Draco’s healer appointment. He’d lifted the binding spell that morning while Draco was ignoring him in the kitchen so that Molly could take Draco to Healer Smith’s in Wiltshire. This wasn’t about his wet dream or Draco’s crying after all. Draco might not even have told her; Draco hadn’t told about the dreams before, as far as Harry knew.

            Harry jumped up from his place by the fire and ran to Molly, placing a hand on either of her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “How? Where? What happened?” he asked frantically. This was so much worse than what he’d imagined.

            “It all happened so fast! Death Eater’s took him! Merlin please let him and that precious baby of his be alright,” Molly replied clearly worried and upset.

            “Took him from where?” Harry asked, Ron now by his side. The other Aurors too had gathered around to hear what was going on.

            “Healer Smith’s place, of course! Oh dear, I do hope they don’t hurt him. And in his state? He’s eight month’s pregnant for goodness sake! Who’d kidnap someone that far along? This can’t be good for the baby,” Molly said. “And with his blood pressure? Merlin help him.”

            “Mum, concentrate. We need to know what happened,” Ron said forcefully.

            “Of course, dear. Well, one moment we were apparating to just outside the door and the next we were being ambushed before we could even get inside. We had no chance, really we didn’t. I tried to fight them off, but I was worried about hitting Draco. He was shoving them off and fighting back, but in his state…well you can imagine. Oh dear, oh dear,” Molly replied.

            “Where did they take Mr. Malfoy?” Auror Callaway asked. Callaway was one of the higher ups in the Auror Corps and he was in charge of training the new recruits. He had positioned himself on Harry’s other side from Ron.

            “Don’t know. One minute they’re right there in front of me and the next their apparating away with him,” Molly answered.

            “And who exactly was there?” Auror Callaway asked another.  
            “I don’t know that either; their faces were covered in masks, weren’t they?” Molly asked.

            “Mum, did Draco recognize any of them?” Ron asked.

            “I don’t know…” Molly trailed off, her eyes out of focus as she thought about it.

            “Weasley, Potter, you take the witness into room three and see what else you can get out of her. Selwyn, Jones, you sound the alarms; get your mentors before leaving here. Everyone else, to Smith’s clinic in Wiltshire. Be prepared for traps, so let’s use formation twenty-three,” Callaway instructed.

            Auror headquarters became a flurry of activity with Auror trainees and the few senior Aurors present organizing and moving out. Harry and Ron ushered Molly into one of the interrogation rooms. They set up an audio recording charm, as per protocol, and set about going over the facts of the situation. Ron was more focused than Harry, who was frantic with worry, so it was up to Ron to diagram the timeline of events on the board and ask all of the hard questions.

            “Mum, I need you to repeat everything that was said from the moment you and Draco arrived,” Ron instructed.

            “Draco was the first one to notice them; he screamed and called out my name,” Molly began.

            The Death Eaters had been telling Draco to just come willingly and Draco had refused and screamed. Then just as they were apparating away, Draco had shouted, “Let me go this instant Le-” and that was all he got out before they were gone.

            “Right, Harry, you stay and see what else you can come up with. I’m going to get my partner and take this information out to Callaway,” Ron said.

            They weren’t permitted to go out into the field without a senior Auror, so in Ron’s case that meant tracking down Sanchez. But then Sanchez was normally around filing paperwork, while Harry’s partner Harding was always off on assignment elsewhere. Ron finding Sanchez would be the fastest solution.

            Harry agreed and once Ron ran out the door, Harry turned back to Molly and tried to figure out what else there was to ask. But there wasn’t much more that Molly knew and Ron and Sanchez soon returned with news from the field and a witness: Healer Smith. Harry saw Sanchez and Smith go into one of the other interrogation rooms, while Ron split off and walked towards room three, where Harry and Molly were still holed up.

            “Ron, did they find him?” Harry asked frantically as Ron entered the interrogation room.

            “No, but I passed on what Mum said. Callaway said it agrees with what Healer Smith said. Sanchez and I are to go over Smith’s statement, record it, and pick at it with a fine tooth comb,” Ron replied.

            “Yeah, but what did Smith say? Was he involved? He _had_ to have known that Death Eaters were staking his place out.” That Smith was a pureblood was left unsaid.

            “He says he wasn’t and he didn’t know. But he did say he saw an Arnie Filch around not fifteen minutes before it happened; said that’s pretty suspicious, because Filch had no reason to be there.”

            “Filch?” Harry asked, thinking of the squib from Hogwarts.

            “Arnie is Argus Filch’s nephew. Sanchez described him as a young pureblood yahoo.” Ron shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve no proof he was a Death Eater, but he certainly wasn’t on our side of the war.”

            Harry’d never heard of Arnie Filch. “Do they know where Arnie lives? Have they gone to question him?”

            “Yeah, Callaway sent a contingent off to Arnie’s work and another to his parent’s house; he still lives with Mister and Madam Filch. Sanchez reckons that if Arnie’s involved, they won’t have gone to someplace Arnie ought to be. He says they might get a lead or too on where to look, but that we’d be wasting time to abandon post in search of him.”

            Harry let out a growl of frustration, because abandoning post in order to go after Arnie was exactly what he wanted to do. It took him a moment to get his head back on straight. When he refocused on what was going on around him, he found Ron in a debate with Molly regarding Cissy: Molly wanted to go tell Cissy what had happened and Ron thought that was a matter that should be handled by Aurors. And Ron couldn’t go with her, because he had to get back to Sanchez and help him question Smith.

            “I’ll go with her,” Harry volunteered.

            “What? No, Harry, you’re supposed to stay here and coordinate this thing; Callaway said,” Ron replied.

            “Don’t be silly Ron; we need to tell Cissy and Harry’s the father, so he should be the one to do it,” Molly said.

            “Ron, are you daft? Callaway just said that to keep me out of it,” Harry said.

            “What? No, he wouldn’t…” Ron replied.

            “He would. Didn’t you read that homework assignment about Ministry Policy with regards to situations personally involving an Auror? We’re never allowed to work our own case, because we’re too emotionally involved or some other dragon dung,” Harry explained.

            Ron slapped his hand to his forehead and groaned, knowing Harry was right, which was why they’d both been given assignments to keep them out of the way.

            “What are we waiting around for boys? Draco’s in danger and we have to find him,” Molly said.

            Harry turned from Ron to Molly, then turned back to Ron and went over what Ron had said about Smith one more time, in preparation for his approaching departure. “Ron, are you sure Smith said he wasn’t involved?” Harry asked.

            “Yes, that’s what he said. I know it’s hard to believe, because he supported Voldemort, but we never had any evidence against the Smith family during the war; kept his nose out of the fighting, that’s for sure. Anyway, that’s what Sanchez and I are supposed to be doing: seeing if we can crack his story. But, as it stands, we’re working under the assumption that Smith was not involved.”

            “Is there anything new Smith was able to give them?”

            “Just the same as Mum gave us. Smith said his intruder alarm went off and he heard screaming, so he looked into a crystal ball he has set up to display the results of a monitoring charm on the front door. The ball showed Mum and Malfoy ambushed by at least three Death Eaters wearing black cloaks and white masks. He swears that Malfoy was screaming and trying to fight them off, although I don’t know how much we can trust his word; if he’s on their side, he’d lie for Malfoy. It’s possible Malfoy arranged the whole thing in order to escape,” Ron said.

            “Ronald Weasley! Draco is in his eight month of pregnancy! No one in their right mind would arrange an escape attempt while eight months pregnant,” Molly said sternly.

            “And why not? He wouldn’t want to leave it until the very end; it’s getting closer every day and maybe he thought it was now or never,” Ron said.

            “Of course he’d leave it to the ninth month!” Molly exclaimed. “Everyone knows that the ninth month is an easier month in terms of the exhaustion and physical limitations lifting.”

            “It is?” Harry asked surprised. He’d thought Draco would just keep getting more pregnant and less mobile, which he wasn’t looking forward to, because Draco was already complaining about trouble breathing. “Why would that be? The baby is still getting bigger in the last month.”

            “Yes and it’s called nesting; during the last month the mother gets a sudden burst of energy to prepare for a new baby. That’s written in every pregnancy book there is. Draco knows about it and if he was planning an escape, he’d wait until then to do it,” Molly said.

            “This is pointless anyway, because I know he wasn’t trying to escape,” Harry said. Draco wouldn’t have had Cissy bring over the Malfoy family nursery furniture if he was planning on escaping; that furniture was hundreds of years old and had been used for every Malfoy baby for generations, so there was no way it was used as a prop to lull Harry into complacency. “Now, Ron, was there anything else learned from Smith before we go?”

            Ron thought for a moment before answering. “Yes, he said he heard the last words out of Malfoy’s mouth and that Malfoy was in the process of calling one of his captors by name. He said it was an L name and he thinks it was Lestrange. Rodolphus died in custody, but Smith said he’d put money on one of those Death Eaters being his little brother Rabastan Lestrange. The majority of Aurors are following that lead; Callaway’s sent contingents off to question Madam Lestrange and anyone else who might know where Lestrange is. McDougal, Goldstein, and their partners have been sent to Azkaban to question Lucius Malfoy and the other captured Death Eaters. He wasn’t too optimistic that the other prisoners would turn over information on Lestrange, but he was pretty confident that Malfoy would; if Draco was really kidnapped that is.”

            Harry felt certain that they were onto something with Lestrange and he wanted to go tearing off in search of the Death Eater, but he didn’t, because there were already so many Aurors working that angle. Instead he asked Ron one more time for information, but this time Ron really was out of news. Ron went off to help Sanchez with Smith, while Harry and Molly went to Malfoy Manor to track down Cissy.

            Cissy Malfoy was utterly flabbergasted by the news. Her shock was evident on her face and Harry couldn’t believe that there was any way she’d known about this. But finding out what she knew took quite some time, because she was hysterical. She cried, screamed, muttered, worried, and generally wasted all of their time for half an hour while Harry panicked and Molly tried to calm Cissy down. But eventually Cissy did focus and when she did, she gave Harry every scrap of information she had on Rabastan Lestrange and where he might take Draco.

            Harry had to get this information to Callaway to investigate right away, but before he left, Cissy promised to find him at Auror Headquarters if she thought of anything else. Harry thanked her for her help and then left with Molly to find his partner. Harry cursed the inconvenience of having to find Auror Harding in order to get out into the field, but it was protocol and if he didn’t follow it, Callaway would send him straight back to Headquarters after a half an hour lecture; it’d waste both of their time and keep him out of the action.

            Harry left Molly in the break room at headquarters, before popping into Head Auror Robards’ office and sharing what he’d learned about Lestrange’s hide-e-holes from Cissy. Robards happened to know that Harry’s partner was out of the country on assignment.

            “Truthfully Potter, we were out of available mentors and thought that out of all of the recruits, you’d be able to handle yourself without one. But we didn’t want it to look like favoritism, so we assigned you Harding, even though we knew he’d be out of the country most of the time,” Robards admitted, while Harry looked on flabbergasted. “Tracking Harding down is an unnecessary delay; instead I’ll accompany you out to Madam Lestrange’s place, where Auror Callaway is.”

            And so it was. Once there, the two senior Aurors exchanged information, with Robards telling Callaway what Harry had learned from Cissy Malfoy. Callaway then told them that Madam Lestrange was talking up a storm, but swore she had no information on her good-for-nothing son, although she seemed to hope he was caught. The one lead they’d gotten from Madam Lestrange was that Rabastan had indeed been by with Arnie Filch, but that was last year, during the war.

            Callaway and Robards went to work reassigning their manpower to explore the new leads and Harry was told to go back to Headquarters to check on Ron and relay everything they’d learned. That was a bogus assignment, because Molly knew everything Harry knew and would tell Ron, so Harry wasn’t needed at Headquarters. All Robards and Callaway wanted was to keep Harry out of the investigation and Harry really wasn’t having that. Instead he decided to pop back over to Malfoy Manor and see if Cissy could come up with anymore leads, especially because he’d forgotten to tell her about Arnie Filch. Filch might have an entirely different set of hide-e-holes to search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Death Eaters have kidnapped Draco and the baby! Oh no!


	24. Chapter24

            When Harry apparated back to the Manor, the front door opened before he could knock on it. He thought at first that it was a sign that Cissy was waiting for him to return and bring news of Draco, but when he entered, she was nowhere in sight. She wasn’t in the entryway of the overly large ornate drawing room. The entryway and drawing room comprised almost all of his knowledge of Malfoy Manor and thinking that Cissy wouldn’t be down in the cellar, he didn’t know where to check next. Thus he called out, “Cissy! Where are you? It’s Harry! We need to talk!”

            Almost instantaneously three elves appeared before him. In front was a female elf with small blue eyes, a bulbous snout-like nose, and long bat-like ears that hung down to her shoulders. She reminded Harry of Kreacher, except not as hairy, old, or wrinkly, and she was clearly a girl elf with a tea cozy on her head and a dishtowel for a dress. Behind her and peering out from either side of her, were two little elves, not even two feet tall. From the way they hung onto the legs of the first elf, Harry was certain that these were her children. One appeared to be a girl elf with large blue eyes, a pencil-like nose, and a tea cozy on her head. The other looked like a miniature version of Dobby, only about a foot shorter than the free-elf had been. He had huge bright green eyes, a pencil-like nose, smaller ears than the older female elf, and most eerily similar of all, he wore a tattered pillowcase.

            “Mistress is out. Vile Thing will be happy to give her mistress a message for you,” the mother elf said.

            “Vile Thing?” Harry questioned. What kind of a name was that for an elf? That was even worse than Kreacher.

            “Yes? How can Vile Thing be helping Harry Potter?” the elf asked. Harry hadn’t told the elf his name, but she clearly recognized him.

            Harry blinked, momentarily unsure of what to do, because he’d been so sure that Cissy would be waiting here for him. “Where did Cissy go?”

            “She went to the Smith Manor on the other side of the forest to look for my Master. Master Draco is missing and we is all very sorry to hear such awful news.”

            Harry’s mind was suddenly brought back to the day when he’d taken Draco to his healer appointment not all that far from here. Draco had told him then that Healer Smith was related and lived near the Manor. Healer Smith was still at Auror Headquarters being held for questioning, but his wife might be at home; Cissy had probably gone over to the Smith’s house to talk to Madam Smith. Harry wanted to go after her, but he’d never been there, so he couldn’t apparate and he didn’t even know where it was.

            Thus Harry asked Vile Thing, who pointed him towards the back of Malfoy Manor, and said, “On the other side of the forest.”

            The forest looked like it stretched on forever in that direction, so Harry asked to borrow a broom, which Vile Thing provided him. It was an older model broom, not Draco’s Nimbus, but it still flew alright. He got it up above the tree-line where he could see the end of the forest only about a mile up ahead. He headed in that direction and began to make out a large white Manor-style house that wasn’t altogether different from Malfoy Manor. As he approached, he saw a blond man step out of the front door and wave his arms up in the air, clearly signaling Harry’s attention.

            Harry landed in front of the blond, who he now recognized as Zacharias Smith.

            “Welcome to Smith Manor, Auror Potter. Is there something I can help you with or do you have a search warrant?” Smith asked.

            “Yeah, I’m looking for Cissy. Vile Thing said she’d be here,” Harry replied, remembering how much he disliked Smith.

            “Cousin Cissy _was_ here. She was looking for her son and asking about if I’d seen any Death Eaters in the area.”

            When Smith failed to go on, Harry asked impatiently, “And? Well, have you?”

            “As a matter of fact, I saw Walden around last month.”

            “Walden?” Harry asked, trying to place the name, which he knew he’d heard before. “Walden Macnair?”

            “No, Walden Nott, Theo’s cousin. He’s named after Walden Macnair though; he’s his uncle.”

            Right, of course he was, because all bloody purebloods were related. “I didn’t know Theo Nott had a cousin.”

            “Well he does and rumor has it he was working for You-Know-Who, but he was never caught. Apparently all of the Aurors who knew their face from their arse were wiped out by the Death Eaters and now all they have left are a bunch of untrained retards,” Smith said, eyeing Harry’s Auror robes and Auror badge pointedly, implying that the insult was directed at Harry.

            Harry was about to fall for Smith’s bait, but then he thought better of it, because he _had_ to find Draco and didn’t have time to waste fighting with this prick. “Right, so where is Cissy now?”

            “Went to the Nott place to question Walden, I suppose,” Smith said with a shrug.

            “Where _is_ the Nott place?”

            “No idea; the Smiths don’t exactly get on with the Notts; ancient family feud. That’s why I was so willing to give him up, even though he’s a fellow pureblood. His blood may be pure, unlike your own, but he’s still a prat.”

            “Well is your mum home? Could you ask her?”

            “No, she’s out.”

            “Is anyone else home I could question?”

            “Only my little sister Sally and as she’s under the age of seventeen; I won’t let you question her. Knowing your lot, you’ll probably blame the kidnapping on her if she doesn’t solve the case for you.”

            Harry started with a string of curse words, letting Smith know exactly how he felt about the git, before thinking better of it, because cussing wasn’t appropriate Auror behavior. He cut himself off mid-four letter word, took a deep breath, and asked, “What’s your problem anyway? It’s your cousin I’m trying to find and you don’t have to be such a git.”

            “My problem, Potter, is that article you mentioned my name in. Some wizards don’t have an ounce of bravery and ran from the war, did they? And you had to single me out as an example; said you saw me cutting in front of younger students to get to the front of the line to escape,” Smith replied.

            “And so what? It’s true, isn’t it?”

            “No, it’s taken completely out of context. You utterly failed to mention that I was trying to get to my little sister, who being a first year, was at the front of the line. I know you don’t have any siblings Potter, but if you did, you’d know that my parents would’ve killed me if I came home from _war_ without Sally. They didn’t even want to send her off to school in the first place, but there was no getting around that decree.”

            “Oh, I didn’t realize you had a sister at Hogwarts,” Harry replied.

            “That’s because you weren’t there seventh year. And thanks to your _wrong_ assumptions, everyone thinks I’m a coward who was out only for myself.”

            “Sorry. Look, I have to get back to searching for Draco. If you hear anything, please contact me,” Harry replied.

            Smith agreed and Harry climbed back on the broom, and flew back to Malfoy Manor, hoping that Cissy would’ve returned while he was gone. He had no such luck though, because Vile Thing and her two children were still the only occupants of the house.

            “Dobson, offer to take Master’s broom back from Harry Potter and put it away,” Vile Thing directed her son as soon as Harry stepped in the door with the broom in one hand.

            “Has Cissy been back?” Harry asked, holding the broom out to Dobson and not waiting for the young elf to offer. He felt bad about it, because the elf reminded him of Dobby and he was clearly a very young elf, just trying to please, but Harry was busy and had to concentrate on finding Draco first.

            “No, sir,” Vile Thing answered. “Can Vile Thing make you some tea while you wait?”

            Harry was parched and he did want to be on his way again, chasing down leads the moment Cissy came back, so he accepted the offer of tea. Vile Thing and her daughter Dotty brought him a full tea-service, complete with biscuits. He took the tea, but he couldn’t even think about eating at a time like this. He drank the tea and then asked for a tall glass of water. She complied and while he drank, he sat down in a high backed chair in the drawing room and warmed up his hands by the fireplace; they were frozen solid from his flight over to Smith Manor in the dead of winter. He’d been concentrating so intently on finding Draco that the cold hadn’t even bothered him until now.

            While Harry waited, Dobson came back and asked in a high, squeaky voice, “Can Dobson be getting Harry Potter anything, sir?”

            Harry looked down at the elf and now that he had nothing to do but wait, he decided it was time to show the little guy some manners. “No thank you, Dobson, and thank you for taking care of the broom. You’re a good little elf. You remind me of an elf I knew named Dobby; he was a good elf too.”

            “Dobby was Dobson’s father,” Dobson squeaked at the same moment Vile Thing appeared with a look so scathing Harry could see where she got her name.

            “You will _not_ be talking _good_ about Dobby! Dobby was a _horrible_ elf and a disgrace to this family. Dobby left Vile Thing with two young elflings to go chase his awful dreams of being free, when Dobby was needed here. Dobby got himself killed being a bad elf and Vile Thing does _not_ want Dobson thinking that Dobby was a good elf,” Vile Thing screeched, spitting out Dobby’s name like a bad word.

            It was then that Harry realized that Vile Thing was in fact Dobby’s wife…or had been Dobby’s wife before. Now that he knew that Dobby had an elf family, he wished more than ever that things had turned out differently and that Dobby was still alive. “I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve saved him; I wish he didn’t have to die,” he said.

            “No matter, Dobby was dead to us long before that. He took off to work in the Hogwarts kitchens and never once returned to check on how his two children were.”

            “Oh, I’m so sorry. Now that I know, I wish I hadn’t…” Harry didn’t know what he wished he hadn’t done, because he didn’t regret setting Dobby free. Dobby was miserable here and he didn’t deserve to be trapped in a life of servitude to people who hated him. But then Dobby’s family didn’t deserve to be left behind without him and there was no way Harry would’ve been able to set all four of them free; Vile Thing didn’t even seem like she wanted to be free.

            Vile Thing gave Harry a scowl worthy of her masters and only amplified her resemblance to Kreacher. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like my house elf Kreacher?” Harry asked.

            “Kreacher is _not_ a Potter house elf! Kreacher is a Black house elf, like Vile Thing. Kreacher is my uncle,” Vile Thing said.

            Even the bloody elves were related. “Of course he is,” Harry said to himself and groaned.

            It was then that Cissy returned and Harry jumped up from the high backed chair by the fire and ran to her, a question about Draco on his lips.

            “Yes, I’ve found something out. It’s definitely Nott, Lestrange, and the Macnairs behind this,” Cissy answered.

            “The Macnairs? As in Walden and his wife?” Harry wondered.

            “No, as in Walden and his son Walter. And I’ve got a lead on where I think they might’ve taken Draco. We need to get the Aurors on it right away before Draco gets hurt!”

            “Of course, where is he?”

            “The Macnairs own a butcher shop in Brighton; it’s about a hundred thirty miles east of here. I’ve already been by to see Franny Macnair and she confirmed that her husband and son are up to something, but they aren’t at the house, so they must be at the butcher shop. I went to Grimmauld Place to find you, but you weren’t there, so I figured I’d come back here and then go over to the Smith’s clinic; they’re certain to be loads of Aurors there.”

            Harry seconded that the Macnair’s butcher shop in Brighton was a solid lead, but he happened to also know that the majority of Aurors had left the scene of the crime to explore other leads. Thus he had Cissy follow him back to Auror Headquarters, where he’d find out from Ron where the head honchos were. He thought that there was a good chance Robards would be back in his office by now, but when he arrived, Robards was still out. Ron and Sanchez were still there, but now Isobel MacDougal and her partner Taylor were back from the Ministry Holding Facility and there were a dozen formerly off-duty Aurors freshly arrived and preparing to join the search.

            Harry wanted all of the information, so he let MacDougal and Taylor relay their news first. “Lucius Malfoy swore up and down that he didn’t know about this, had nothing to do with it, and that Draco Malfoy wouldn’t be involved. He begged us to let him out so that he could track down his son for us and promised that he’d report back to prison once Draco was found. He was _very_ insistent, but once he realized we weren’t falling for it, he switched to answering all of our questions and giving us tons of leads. We’ve brought back a list of two dozen Death Eater hang outs and safe houses and another list with half a dozen Death Eaters that he says are still out there and we should look into. Goldstein and Pingle are seeing what else they can get out of him, but none of the other Death Eaters in the Holding Facility would talk to us, so McDougal and I came back. I hope Bolton’s group gets something more from the Death Eaters in Azkaban,” Auror Taylor said.

            Most of the Death Eater trials, especially for the major players, were over and the Death Eaters locked away in Azkaban. But Lucius had gotten his trial postponed, because of Draco’s pregnancy, and was as a result still in the Holding Facility.

            “Alright good, now let’s hear what Potter’s found. Is there a reason you haven’t taken Lady Malfoy to an interrogation room for questioning yet?” Auror Walker asked. Of the group present, Walker was probably the senior-most Auror.

            “Yes, because I’ve already questioned her. She did some detective work of her own and has found four suspects and a potential location for us,” Harry answered, before going into the details.

            Macnair’s name was indeed on the list MacDougal and Taylor had brought back from Lucius Malfoy, as was the butcher shop, but the two younger Death Eaters weren’t on the list.

            “Can’t be; Lord Malfoy wouldn’t have missed two Death Eaters,” Isobel MacDougal said, studying the list.

            “Knowing my husband, he left off _all_ of the young Death Eaters, because he wanted the other boys our son’s age to have a second chance. He wouldn’t have sold out the younger bunch without evidence against them,” Cissy said.

            “Um, did you even mention that Arnie Filch was seen nearby?” Harry asked and then remembered that he hadn’t gotten around to telling Cissy about Arnie. But then he wasn’t sure if that was at all significant now that they had four solid confirmed Death Eater suspects. He gave her an apologetic shrug, hoping that the slipup wouldn’t hold them back from investigating.

            “You think Arnie Filch was involved too?” Cissy asked.

            “Does that name mean something to you?” Walker asked.

            “Yes, he’s known to be friend with Walter Macnair,” Cissy answered.

            That just seemed to confirm what they already thought about the suspects and added in a possible accomplice. There was more discussion and Walker tried to make Harry and Ron stay behind to watch their witnesses, but Harry argued that none of their witnesses were guilty, so they didn’t need watching, and they really needed all available hands to ambush the butcher shop. The argument was prolonged, so much so that MacDougal was able to leave, track down Callaway, and come back with a contingent of Aurors. Once Callaway was back, he ordered Sanchez, Ron, and Harry to stay behind with the witnesses and took everyone else off to Brighton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that they have some leads the search will heat up in the next chapter. Please Review!


	25. Chapter25

            An hour after the Aurors left for the Macnair Butcher Shop, MacDougal and Taylor were back to inform Harry that although there were signs of all four of the suspects having been there recently, no one was currently there. There was a map of Wiltshire found at the shop, so the Aurors were certain they were on the right track, but Draco wasn’t there and the Aurors still had a ton of leads to comb through.

            Harry was disappointed that the four Death Eaters had slipped through their grasp and he just kept thinking that if he’d been there himself, he would’ve been able to find Draco. Maybe there was a secret cellar the other Aurors had missed or maybe they’d just taken too long getting into position and had given themselves away, giving the Death Eaters plenty of time to apparate away with Draco. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that, because McDougal and Taylor had returned with Francine Macnair for questioning.

            Harry, Ron, and Sanchez squeezed into the interrogation room with Taylor and MacDougal but they weren’t able to get anything useful out of Madam Macnair. Then Harry had the idea to bring in Cissy, because she’d gotten information out of Madam Macnair before. Thus the Aurors squeezed in tighter and Cissy was asked to join them. Cissy started off with a motherly appeal for Franny to help her find her only son, but Madam Macnair insisted that she didn’t know anything more about where her husband and son were.

            “Alright, so you don’t know where they are, but why did they take Draco?” Harry asked. One of things he’d learned in Auror training was that often discovering the motive was crucial to figuring out the other details of the crime.

            “Because he’s carrying the Dark Lord’s child,” Franny Macnair answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

            Harry’s jaw dropped as he realized the misunderstanding and he sputtered around for a follow-up question, but Sanchez came up with one first.

            “Why do they want Voldemort’s child? What are they going to do with the baby?” Sanchez asked.

            “Worship him of course! He’s the only heir of the greatest dark wizard who ever lived; he’ll certainly grow up to be a powerful dark wizard in his own right. My husband only wanted to help him get there.”

            “She; it’s a girl,” Harry replied scathingly, but not giving away that the baby was not in fact Voldemort’s. He was about to, but it had just occurred to him that Draco and the baby were safe as long as the Death Eaters thought the baby really was Voldemort’s. He didn’t want to find out what would happen if they learned the truth.

            Cissy nodded her head in confirmation. “Well she’ll be a powerful Dark Lady then,” Franny corrected.

            “Why did they do it now? If they just want the baby, why didn’t they wait a month and do it after the baby is born? They could’ve taken the baby and left Draco behind and had less to bother with,” Sanchez said next. Harry scowled at him.

            “They didn’t want to separate them. Besides, we figured Draco was a prisoner and would welcome liberation. I had no idea you’d take objection to the plan Cissy, honest,” Franny Macnair answered, looking pleadingly towards Cissy.

            “I believe you Franny,” Cissy said cupping the other woman’s hands with her hands and looking her in the eyes. “You couldn’t have known that we devised a plan to get Draco off and make everyone accept the baby as Potter’s baby. See Potter felt bad about killing the baby’s father and leaving Draco as a single parent, so he volunteered to take responsibility for his mistake and claim the baby. That’s why all those stories about it were in the paper, but you couldn’t have known what was really going on.”

            “Why would you want your only grandchild to have any sort of association with _Potter_?” Macnair asked petulantly, pulling her hands back as if burned by Cissy’s touch.

            “Because Potter has a lot of status right now. No one would ever think ill of Harry James Potter’s precious little girl and that is exactly what we want.” Cissy winked at the other woman.

            “Oh, oh, I see. That way they’ll never see it coming and will be lining up to follow her!” Macnair replied excitedly. “Oh Cissy, that is a much better plan than what my husband has in mind. If I’d known, I would’ve made them stop. I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

            Cissy nodded and then proceeded to try to get Madam Macnair to spill the beans regarding the location where Draco was being kept, but it seemed she really didn’t know. Cissy kept asking and seeing as Macnair was responding more honestly to Cissy’s questions, they let her continue to be in charge of the interrogation, but piped in with the occasional question. Macnair did reveal a few more details, but no solid leads, and eventually Cissy gave up and walked out of the interrogation room. Harry, Ron, and Sanchez followed as Cissy led them into an empty interrogation room and closed the door behind her.

            Cissy blinked her eyes and when they reopened, her countenance had changed completely. “Please tell me you’re charging her with accessory to kidnapping. If you let her get away with her involvement with my son’s and unborn granddaughter’s kidnapping I will sue the Ministry so thoroughly it’ll be renamed the Malfoy Ministry of Magic.”

            Harry blinked in shock, having thought that Cissy had meant what she’d said to Macnair back there about forgiving the other woman. He personally wanted to see Franny Macnair fry, but he had no idea that it was all an act and that Cissy wanted the same thing.

            “And what evidence do you have of her guilt?” Sanchez asked reasonably.

            “Her word! She practically admitted that she was involved in the planning! She _did_ admit that she was aware of the planning and didn’t come forward! And she _must_ know where they are, but she’s lying to cover it up. I bet you a hundred galleons that if we let her go, she’ll send word to her husband, and within the hour my Draco will turn up outside on the street,” Cissy said fervently.

            “So you think she’ll be able to contact them then?” Sanchez asked.

            “Yes!” Cissy answered.

            “The plan has merit,” Ron conceded and Harry nodded.

            “Alright, I’ll take this to Walker and we’ll discuss it. We may have to call Callaway back here to get his approval,” Sanchez replied.

            And so Sanchez and Walker went to discuss the plan. They went into an office, cast a privacy ward, and didn’t come back out for half an hour. When they did re-emerge, it was only to relay the news that they’d decided that Callaway or Robards really did need to approve Macnair’s release, given what Cissy suspected. Luckily Aurors Patterson and Lovegood returned with news from the field while Walker and Sanchez were hold-up in their little discussion, so they knew where to find Robards. They also knew that Goldstein’s team was able to confirm with Lucius Malfoy that Walter Macnair, Arnie Filch, and Walden Nott were all Death Eaters, despite being left off of Lucius’ initial list. Also a handful of potential Death Eater hideouts had been cleared with no sign of Draco or their four to five suspects, but the Aurors on the case still had plenty of leads.

            Walker and Sanchez sent Patterson and Lovegood out to relay their news of the information Cissy had gotten from Madam Macnair and their request to let their first real suspect go in hopes that she’d lead them to Draco. Once Patterson and Lovegood were off, Harry realized that Ron had deserted him. He went off to find his friend, who turned out to be in the break room with Molly, who was still upset. Harry stayed there with the Weasleys until Robards returned and wanted to talk to Harry in his office.

            Robards wanted to know Harry’s opinion on the situation and of course Harry wasted no time in telling his boss that this was their only viable option to get Draco back quickly. None of their other leads had panned out yet and although the idea had come from Cissy Malfoy, a former Death Eater supporter, she was clearly on their side and had given them all of their best leads. If it hadn’t been for her, they wouldn’t have been onto the Macnairs this soon. Thus Robards eventually caved and agreed to release Madam Macnair once they had their plan together.

            Of course the Aurors couldn’t just release a solid suspect, because it was more complicated than that. They’d have to first inconspicuously cast a tracking charm on Macnair, so that they could know her every location. They had to notify the teams searching the Macnair residence and butcher shop and tell them to clear out, retreat to a safe distance, and stake out the locations. The Macnair family owl had to be located and a tracking spell placed on it. The Macnair residence’s floo and the Macnair butcher shop’s floo both had to be monitored. And finally they had to get two Aurors into position to follow Macnair wherever she went, even through apparition. Only experienced apparition trackers would be up to the task and they only had a few such Aurors left alive right now. Those Aurors had to be called in and reassigned, while replacements sent out to take over whatever task they had previously been assigned.

            All in all, it took two hours to arrange Madam Francine Macnair’s release. Harry was anxious for them to get going with it already, although he did wish that he’d been allowed to follow Macnair personally. Unfortunately, he barely had his apparition license and was nowhere near where he needed to be to even _start_ the course on apparition tracking, much less master it. Thus he once again had to stay behind while other Aurors went out and looked for Draco.

            It was now evening and they still hadn’t found him. As time passed, Harry was growing more anxious and worried that something had gone wrong. What if Draco popped off at the mouth to his capturers and they retaliated with physical violence? One wrong hit could cause Draco to go into labor. Merlin, were the Death Eaters even prepared to deliver a baby? They planned to capture Draco before the baby was born, but had they bothered to prepare for a birth? Were they prepared to take care of the baby after the birth? Harry thought then to all of the preparations they had been making and the alterations to Grimmauld Place. Ron’s old room resembled a nursery complete with hand-painted blue flowers on the walls and now Harry wondered if his daughter would ever get to use the room. What if he was never able to get her back and he never laid her down in her little crib with the crisp flowery sheets?

            Harry was interrupted from his dark musings by Ron, who came over to him, tapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Mum and Lady Malfoy have gone home. It’s late; we should probably get home too.”

            Harry protested and Ron retorted with, “We won’t be any use if we’re falling down with exhaustion.”

            Harry couldn’t even _imagine_ sleeping right now and he told Ron as much. Ron countered with they could check out a pair of vials filled Dreamless Sleep from the Auror potion supply cabinet. Harry was about to refuse again, but then it occurred to him what he could do if he wasn’t under the supervision of the other Aurors: while Ron thought him asleep, he could begin his own search for Draco. And so that is how Harry found himself caving into Ron’s suggestion of going home.

            Back at Grimmauld Place half an hour later, Harry promised Ron he’d just have a bath and then take the sleep inducing potion. Ron stared back at Harry for a second too long and in that moment, Harry was certain he’d been found out. But then Ron shook his head, said a few more comforting words such as, “We’ll find him,” and, “He’ll be okay.” And then Ron _finally_ left and Harry went straight to his invisibility cloak, before apparating to the Macnair’s house.

            Madam Macnair was released about forty-five minutes previously and Harry thought it most likely that she’d head home first. There were Aurors trailing her and Aurors stationed at her house, so he had to be extra careful, hence the muffling and disillusionment charms on his feet.

            Once at the Macnair residence, he knew immediately that someone was home, but the challenge was how to get inside without anyone noticing, because the doors were shut and no one was going in or out. Harry thought the place was impenetrable with all of the windows shut tight against the winter chill, but then he noticed the elf quarters in the back. A very hairy elf, with long wiry black hair covering almost every surface of his body, except for his head, crawled out a flap that looked like a doggy door. The elf went off to magically split a large section of wood and then brought the pieces back inside. Harry waited for fifteen minutes hoping that the elf wouldn’t notice him, before crawling through the elf-flap unnoticed. No one ever noticed the elves.

            Luckily the hairy elf was nowhere in sight, nor were there any other elves in the kitchen, for it was the kitchen Harry had crawled into. He slowly made his way through the house, spotting the elf in the drawing room adding logs to the fire, and kept going in search of Madam Macnair. He finally found her in an upstairs bedroom, sitting on a large bed and looking into a mirror. At first he thought that she was vain or possibly just getting ready for bed, but he quickly realized that the voices he heard weren’t just the eccentric pureblood talking to herself.

            “We will _not_ give it up!” came the disembodied voice of a man. “Yes, Lady Malfoy’s plan was better, but you said yourself: she gave it up right there in the Ministry in front of all of those Aurors. Do you really think Potter’s going to let the Malfoys use his name to take over the Wizarding World now that he knows? There’s no way. That option is dead, so we’re sticking with our plan.”

            “But Wally, Cissy seemed so adamant that she wanted her son back. I’m sure she’ll just tell Potter that she was lying to me to get Draco back or she’ll Obliterate him or something,” Franny Macnair replied.

            “Are you daft Franny? She _is_ lying to _you_ just to get her son back. They’ll probably raise the Dark Lord’s child to be a do-gooding little savior who gives money to charities and rescues orphaned hippogriffs. His only chance to rise to his full potential is to be raised properly. Stan and I will do just that.”

            “It’s a girl, did you know? There aren’t too many female dark witches.”

            “Well just look at Bella; she was as dark as they get and she was a lady. Just because you haven’t the spunk to sign up with the Dark Lord doesn’t mean this child won’t.”

            The argument continued without any new information. Harry edged around the bed, making his way closer. Eventually he was able to look into the mirror that Madam Macnair was talking into and his heart leapt into his throat as he recognized it: it looked almost identical to the mirror Sirius had given him. But it couldn’t be that mirror, because he still had his shard of that mirror back at Grimmauld Place. He hadn’t looked into it in ages, but he was certain Aberforth Dumbledore still had the other mirror. No, this must be another set of mirrors with the same communication charms on them. And it was pretty ingenious of the Macnairs to be communicating through ancient charmed mirrors when the Aurors were monitoring the floo and the owls. Here the Aurors were waiting outside for any sign of communication, while Franny Macnair was inside chatting with her husband all along. Harry was secretly very pleased with himself for violating protocol and sneaking in, because he’d just found out valuable information that the other Aurors would never have gotten.

            But Harry didn’t have time to sit around patting himself on the back, so he concentrated on the scruffy image of Walden Macnair in the mirror. His eyes were just as blue as ever, but his pale skin was grubbier than usual and his black hair was flecked with a substantial amount of grey that hadn’t been there before. There were three angry red lines running down his cheek and at one point Franny asked him why he didn’t heal those scratches with some dittany.

            Walden touched his cheek and replied, “It aint a big deal. Bloody Malfoy brat scratched me. He was talking about we better return him back to Ministry custody or else Potter’s going to come after him and shove his foot up my arse, back when we first captured him. He was cursing our stupidity until we explained the plan to him; that shut him up. He’s been much more agreeable ever since, although he hasn’t stopped with the complaining. Never met someone who complains so much.”

            The Macnairs continued their conversation and Harry watched Walden’s image in the mirror like a hawk, hoping for clues to their location. The mirror continued to display nothing more than a close up of Walden’s face until he turned to say something to one of the other Death Eaters and the scene shifted to show a shelf of potions in the background and a bottle of elf-made wine by Walden’s elbow. The potions were all the same, indicating that this wasn’t a personal supply, which would contain a small number of a variety of potions; this was clearly a brewer’s supply ready for sale. And whatever it was, it wasn’t some first year potion; he didn’t think he’d ever seen this particular potion before, so he thought it must be complicated to make and NEWT level at least.

            “Bloody brats asleep! Why do I have to stay in there and keep an eye on him when he’s asleep dad?” a younger sounding male voice asked.

            “Because I bloody well told you to,” Walden replied.

            “Oh lay off him Wally; Walt is a good boy and if the Malfoy boy is sleeping, then what harm does it do? Let Walt get some sleep too,” Franny Macnair stated sternly.

            Walden seemed to give his wife’s words some thought, before caving and telling Walt that there was food in the kitchen.

            Harry clung to Walden and Walter’s every word, hunting for clues about Draco. From what they said, Draco seemed to be alive and well; he was even sleeping. Harry hoped Draco would wake up, notice that he was alone, and make his escape, but he didn’t think that would happen. Draco was sleeping a lot lately, if in short stretches punctuated by trips to the loo, and Harry didn’t think Draco would be up to an escape attempt.

            It was getting late and eventually Franny put her mirror down and got ready for bed. Harry stayed out of the way in a corner of her room, trying not to look at the saggy mild-aged woman as she undressed. Harry thought that if he wasn’t gay before this, he’d definitely be gay after seeing Madam Macnair naked. He’d never considered the positives of his newfound sexuality before, but not having saggy tits to look forward to in his future was definitely a plus. It was probably one of the most disgusting sights he’d ever seen in his life, but he was trapped and unwilling to give himself away by apparating out. This was for Draco, so he closed his eyes and waited for Madam Macnair to change into her nightgown and go to bed.

            Harry waited twenty minutes past when Franny ceased moving, just to make sure she really was asleep, before going for the mirror. He picked it up and looked into the reflective surface and saw…the wood grain of some piece of furniture. Walden had likely set the mirror reflective side down, giving nothing away to Harry. Harry bit his lip to hold back his frustration and put the mirror back. Then he carefully and silently made his way back out of the house, through the elf flap in the kitchen. He walked off into the woods surrounding the house and out of hearing range of the Aurors on watch, before disapparating away, back to Grimmauld Place.

            It was past midnight when he got there, but someone was waiting up for him sitting on his sofa in the sitting room with a book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry’s getting closer! I know you are all anxious for him to find Draco, but at least they now know that the Death Eaters aren’t going to harm Draco or the baby.
> 
> What do you think of Narcissa in this one? I can't see her staying at home when her son and granddaughter's lives are at stake. She lied to Voldemort in the forest to get to Draco before and she'll go to the ends of the Earth to drag the information she needs out of Death Eaters if she has too.


	26. Chapter26

            Hermione was waiting for Harry at Grimmauld Place when he returned. She looked up from her book and then jumped up from the sofa the moment she saw him. She wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug, which was something he really needed at the moment, so he allowed himself to sag in her arms and returned the hug.

            “Oh Harry! It’s so awful; I came as soon as I heard. Ron told me,” she said.

            “Thanks, I’m glad you’re here.”

            “I couldn’t stay away; not knowing you needed me. All of the NEWT midyear exams in the world couldn’t keep me. Now tell me what’s happened.” Exams were next week and winter break wasn’t until the week after.

            They sat down on the sofa and Harry filled Hermione in. It took hours to retell the story and when they started yawning halfway through, they made coffee and went back to work. That is where they woke up in the morning, on the sofa with cold cups of half-finished coffee sitting on the coffee table. Although they had attempted to stay up through the night and figure out where Draco was, they hadn’t managed to tackle the heart of the matter.

            Harry nearly had a breakdown when he’d realized he’d slept for eight hours and that it was now eleven am, when Draco was missing. But Hermione pulled Harry back from the brink and got him to focus on figuring out where Draco was. They went through all of the clues again, but didn’t come up with anything more concrete than they should just search all of the locations on Lucius’ list. The Aurors had been at work searching those locations while they slept, so they decided a trip to Headquarters was in order.

            Ron was already there when they arrived. He jumped up and called out, “Where have you been all morning, Harry? If Hermione hadn’t been with you keeping you out of trouble, I would’ve sent a team of Aurors out looking for you.”

            “Sorry, we stayed up all night talking and fell asleep on the couch,” Harry admitted sheepishly. “What have you found out?”

            “Nothing. We were so sure Madam Macnair would contact her husband and then nothing. She goes home, doesn’t leave the house, doesn’t attempt to use the floo, and no owls are seen anywhere near there,” Ron answered.

            “Harry, you didn’t tell them about last night?” Hermione asked.

            Harry’s face turned red as he realized his error; here he was sleeping on a clue while Draco was being held prisoner by Death Eaters. He felt like a cad.

            “What about last night? We let Madam Macnair go and then Harry and I went home,” Ron said.

            “Erm, I sort of didn’t stay home. I grabbed my invisibility cloak and snuck into the Macnair residence. It’s a good thing I did too, because she was using charmed mirrors to communicate with her husband. From what they said, Draco and the baby are probably fine for now, but Walden isn’t going to release them,” Harry revealed with a shrug.

            “Bloody… Did you at least get any clues to where they’re holding Malfoy?” Ron asked.

            “Yes, elf-made wine and a brewer’s shelf of potions,” Hermione jumped in with the answer.

            Harry confirmed Hermione’s statement and then the group took the information to Head Auror Robards, who was back at his desk. Robards passed along the information to Callaway out in the field, before chewing Harry’s head off for violating protocol. When Robards was winding down, he said, “I have half a mind to send you home for the duration, Potter. But knowing you, you and your little friend would just take off to investigate, so I’m assigning you to paperwork. Any news or leads we get, you’re filing it.”

            Harry groaned, but at least this meant he would be up to date with the latest on the case.

            And so Harry went to work, filing paperwork until his shift was over at seven. During that time he learned that half of the list of locations from Lucius Malfoy, including all of the most likely locations, had been cleared with no sign of Draco. At least it was useful information in case he did decide to play vigilante again tonight. In fact he’d been planning on going back to the Macnair place and was only stopped by Robards promising to have a pair of Aurors inside the house with invisibility cloaks of their own.

            Thus when seven O’clock came around, Harry didn’t have any plans in mind. He picked up Hermione from the Auror’s law library, where she’d evidentially gotten lost with her nose in a book, and took her back to Grimmauld Place. They ate dinner—well Harry only picked at his—and then Hermione suggested stopping by Malfoy Manor to give Cissy an update on the case. It was getting late in the evening, but Harry knew that Cissy would be grateful for the news, so he agreed.

            It was five minutes shy of Eight O’clock when they approached the Manor and Vile Thing let them in. Harry could tell Hermione was nanoseconds away from having a fit about the elf’s name, so he decided he had to act fast. “Not tonight Hermione; we can deal with S.P.E.W. when we get Draco back,” he said.

            “Yes, right. Have you seen Cissy Malfoy?” Hermione asked the elf kindly.

            “Not since last night. Mistress told Vile Thing she was going out to find Master Draco and she wasn’t coming back until someone talked, mam.”

            They had a million questions for the elf about where Cissy would go and who she would get to talk, but the elf had no answers for them. Eventually they gave up and let the elf get back to tending to her two elf children. It was growing increasingly late—past eight O’clock now—but Harry didn’t want to go home. He identified Cissy’s sister Dromeda as the easiest person to ask. The sisters had been spending increasing amounts of time together and he hoped that Cissy had stopped by and told her sister her plan.

            Thus Harry and Hermione stopped by Dromeda’s place. Dromeda had been washing peas out of Teddy’s hair, but she paused in her work long enough to tell them that she hadn’t seen her sister and hadn’t even heard that Draco had been kidnapped. She was shocked by the news and clearly upset. She said she wished she could help them more and suggested asking her mother and father. Cissy was close with their parents and it was entirely possible that Madam and Mister Black knew where their daughter was.

            Harry thanked Dromeda for her help and acknowledged that her parents were the most likely people to know where Cissy was. He remembered his first unpleasant encounter with Madam Black and shuddered, but Madam Black had been cordial at the baby shower and Harry was certain she’d want to help find Draco.

            Thus Harry and Hermione flooed over to Black Gardens, where Druella and Cygnus Black lived in an out of date house smelling of mothballs and talcum powder. Madam Black let them in and actually offered her assistance in finding her beloved grandson, but she didn’t know anything. Cissy hadn’t stopped by and this was the first she was hearing about Draco’s kidnapping.

            Harry and Hermione were about to go, when Cygnus Black said, “I think I have something that might help.” He was slowly moving towards a bookshelf with his cane in one hand and reaching out towards an aged black leather tome with the other. He pulled the book down and a medallion on a leather shoestring with it. “This medallion has the Black family crest on it. With this medallion, a map, and the spell in this book, one can find any Black in the world, even if they’ve married. It won’t find our Draco, because he’s a Malfoy and never had the Black initialization spell cast on him, but it will find our Cissy.”

            With nothing else to go on and no other prospects besides going home and sleeping for the night, Harry agreed to give it a shot. That meant waiting for Cygnus to move at his snail’s pace and go through all sorts of old-man nonsense, like finding his teeth and retrieving the right map out of an infinitely large pile of maps, before he could begin. It was a complicated spell that could only be cast by the patriarch of the family, which meant Cygnus. It took an hour, but eventually Cygnus finished it and Cissy’s dot appeared in Cardiff to the west. Cardiff was the home of Madam Lestrange’s Mansion, which was a logical place for Cissy to be, given that Rabastan Lestrange was a suspect.

            Harry and Hermione thus took off for Cardiff to find Cissy. They apparated back to Grimmauld Place, where they then flooed to a pub in Cardiff. From there they caught a cab, because of Hermione’s fear of flying and the fact that Cardiff was muggle populated. It was half past nine O’clock at night when they finally arrived at a creepy looking stone mansion. Little old ladies ought to be asleep by this time, but a house elf showed them into a sitting room where Madam Lestrange sat petting a kneazel.

            Madam Lestrange confirmed that Cissy was indeed there and ordered her elf to show them to the study, where Cissy was poring over a bunch of old scrolls.

            “Harry? Have you found him then?” Cissy asked urgently, looking up from her work.   

            “No, not yet, but I do have an update for you,” Harry answered, before going into the progress the Aurors had made in eliminating possible locations. Then he told her about the clues he had discovered while spying on Madam Macnair.

            As soon as the news of the elf-made wine and the potions shelf were out of Harry’s mouth, Cissy gasped in realization. “Spinner’s End! They’ve taken Draco to Severus Snape’s old place. It’s perfect, because it hasn’t been used since Severus died,” she revealed.

            “Are you sure?” Harry asked.

            Cissy was, so Harry and Hermione left to take the news back to Auror Headquarters. Robards was gone for the night when they got there, as were Ron and Sanchez, but MacDougal and Taylor were in and knew where Callaway was. Harry passed along the lead to them and they passed it along to Callaway. Callaway sent word that they would raid Spinner’s End right away, moving Aurors from the Macnair place to Spinner’s End, but Harry was not to be involved.

            There wasn’t anything more Harry could do at Headquarters besides wait, so Hermione suggested they go home and get some sleep. The last thing Harry wanted to do when they were on the verge of finding Draco was sleep, but he agreed to go home. And once he was home, Hermione measured out a quarter of a dose of Dreamless Sleep.

            “Now Harry, we can’t go falling asleep at the wheel again tonight. It’ll be hours before they even get the raid put together and until then, there’s nothing we can do. We’ll want to be rested when they find Draco so that you can be there for him and that won’t happen if we stay up all night waiting for the raid. This is only enough sleeping potion to put us out for two hours; three maximum. We’ll wake up within three hours just in time to find out the news,” she reasoned.

            It made sense and it really would be difficult rescuing Draco if he was falling over with exhaustion, so he agreed to take it. He swallowed his quarter dose and then watched Hermione swallow another quarter of the potion. The last thing he did before going to sleep was order Kreacher to wake him up if there was news of Draco.

            “Master, wake up. There is news of Master Draco,” Kreacher said in his deep voice, while shaking Harry by the shoulder.

            Harry jumped awake, muttering, “What? Huh? Kreacher, have they found anything?”

            Kreacher handed over a scroll, which Harry unrolled and read. It revealed that Spinner’s End was deserted, but showed signs of being occupied recently. The Aurors were still searching the place for clues, but Draco wasn’t there and they wouldn’t be finding him tonight. Harry tore up the parchment in his anger with the world and banged his head against the wall in frustration. He wanted to be doing something to help with Draco, but there was nothing he could do at this hour in the night.

            Hermione was still asleep and eventually Harry decided there was nothing for it, but to take the remaining half a dose of Dreamless Sleep, so that he’d be refreshed in the morning. Hopefully they’d be done searching Snape’s place by then and would have a fresh clue.

            It would not be until the morning that they would learn that Draco had indeed been at Spinner’s End. They were so close to finding him, but the Death Eaters had moved on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lull before the storm; they find Draco next chapter. Please Review!


	27. Chapter27

            Harry and Hermione were up first thing the next morning. They went into Headquarters for an update on the search of Spinner’s End and received the shocking news that Draco had been there the day before. The Aurors had searched the place from head to toe and found Draco’s initials smudged onto the bathroom mirror. They’re sure he was there and that they’re on the right track, only, the Death Eaters were one step ahead of them and had left the morning before.

            There was also news on the Macnair front, which Harry had almost completely forgotten about in his excitement over Spinner’s End. A pair of Aurors had infiltrated the Macnair place last night under invisibility cloaks and had overheard another conversation via mirrors between Francine and Walden. This time Walden was in a sparsely furnished relatively plain white room with a pair of twin beds. There was nothing from the background to indicate a location and it could’ve been anywhere. The overheard conversation yielded little information too, although Walden had indicated to his wife that they were in their final hiding location, where they planned to stay long-term. Walden seemed fairly convinced that no one would be able to find them there, making it sound increasingly like their location wouldn’t be on Lucius’ list.

            The Aurors were no longer monitoring Madam Macnair, having officially arrested her early this morning. She was there at Headquarters being questioned in one of the interrogation rooms. Harry didn’t think that she would crack and reveal any new information, so he concentrated his efforts on Spinner’s End. The other Aurors were still searching Spinner’s End for leads to where the Death Eaters had taken Draco, but all the real action was over, so the Auror in charge agreed that Harry could pop in and take a look around.

            Harry tore through Snape’s old house as if there was a chance Draco was still there. He knew that all of the other Aurors couldn’t be wrong, but he was hoping to find some scrap of evidence as to where Draco was. Draco had been taken two days ago and this house was their best lead at the moment. Other Aurors were out searching Lucius’ list, one building at a time, but none of those places had the connection to the case that this location did. Why had the kidnappers stopped here? Where did they go next? There had to be a clue, if only he searched hard enough.

            Harry found the exact desk where Walden had sat talking to his wife through the mirror, complete with the potions shelf in the back. Snape’s place had a cellar full of elf-made wine and it appeared as if the Death Eaters had gone through several bottles that night. And there were indeed the letters DM smudged onto the mirror. But other than that, the house seemed to hold no answers. Either the Death Eaters were smart enough not to leave any clues behind or they weren’t literate enough to have recorded any clues. Personally, he was leaning towards the latter from his previous experiences with Macnair.

            Harry spent the entire day there in the house on Spinner’s End, searching for a clue and hoping to get news of Draco any moment now, but no clue or news ever came. The Aurors cleared another three locations and locked Franny Macnair up after striking out with her interrogation, but still they had no Draco. They threatened Franny with life in Azkaban, but her son was involved and she would have to give him and her husband up if she talked, so she didn’t seem to be talking.

            They were out of solid leads and Harry really should’ve gone home at the end of the day, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to search the Macnair place or the Smith Clinic or at the very least stay up all night pacing back and forth through the house on Spinner’s End. Molly, however, put a stop to that plan. At seven that night she dragged him home with her, Ron, and Hermione and ordered him to take a nutrient potion. Harry couldn’t remember when the last time he’d eaten was, because he had no appetite. Perhaps the nutrient potion wasn’t a bad idea. The soup that Molly tried to force on him afterwards though, he just couldn’t stomach. As long as Draco and the baby were in the hands of Death Eaters, he couldn’t think about food.

            It was half past eight at night and Harry was still sitting at the kitchen table pretending to sip his soup when he heard a loud pop. He startled and then shot up at the sight of Kreacher. He didn’t expect news to come from Kreacher, but he’d take news of Draco from any source at the moment. He might even let Madam Trelawney read his tea leaves if she promised to get Draco back.

            “The Lady Malfoy is at the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black looking for you, Master,” Kreacher said with a low bow.

            “What does she want?” Harry asked, already running towards the fireplace.

            “Kreacher does not know Master.”

            “Sod it all,” Harry said under his breath while grabbing a pinch of floo powder.

            Moments later Harry was through the floo and stepping out the other end at Grimmauld Place. Cissy was there standing by his fireplace with a piece of parchment in her hands.

            “I’ve found something! It’s an address that I didn’t remember until I read it written here. I talked to Rabastan’s mother-in-law and then went through all his things, specifically looking for this box she’d described; this was in there. When I came across it, I remembered that Stan bought this house in Scotland when he married Davida right after getting out of Azkaban. They’ve two children now, but that won’t stop Stan from being a Death Eater; he’ll have my Draco in this safe house of his,” Cissy said.

            “Safe house?” Harry asked, not following all of this. He wanted to be off already after Draco, but he needed to understand what he was barging into first.

            “Yes, it’s the Fidelius, I’m certain of it. That’s why no one has been able to find them. And it makes perfect sense too. They took Draco from Wiltshire and their ultimate goal was Stan’s place in Muirkirk, so they passed right through Snape’s Place in Manchester! They couldn’t go all the way to Muirkirk from Wiltshire in a single trip and they needed to stop somewhere to spend the night. They knew Snape’s house was vacant and it was just before the limits of their traveling abilities.”

            “Wait, why wouldn’t they go straight through?” Harry hated himself for asking, because he wanted to get to Draco already, but it was part of Auror training to get the entire story before setting off. They had gone through so many training exercises where rushing off into action resulted in the failure of the mission that that point was drilled home so thoroughly that he couldn’t just take off like he wanted to.

            “Because Draco’s pregnant! There’s a limit to how far you can side along apparate with a pregnant person or it will damage the baby. And you can’t just do two short trips either, because it’s cumulative.”

            “No one ever told me that! I’ve been taking Draco to the Burrow! What if?”

            “Harry, the Burrow isn’t nearly as far as Muirkirk. Muirkirk is way up north in Scotland. They’d never be able to make Muirkirk in one go without damaging the baby.”

            “So the baby is fine?”

            “I hope so. I wanted to go myself, but I couldn’t risk it without getting backup first.”

            “Yes, that’s good thinking. Only we need more backup than just me. I need you to take this parchment to the Aurors and get them to send everyone. I’m going ahead to get him out of there before the Aurors storm the place.”

            “But there are two young children there! And Davida’s not a Death Eater either; she’s just caught up with her husband.”

            “What is a woman doing there with two young children?”

            “She’s married to Stan, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I think Stan has taken Draco and my unborn granddaughter to his wife. He’d never be able to handle the birth and wouldn’t know what to do with a baby, but his wife will. I don’t think she knows what’s going on though; the poor girl is as daft as they come.”

            “Well she’d have to be to marry Rabastan.”

            “Yes, so get my Draco out of there, but be on the lookout for a baby, a toddler, and their mother. Please don’t hurt them; Davida’s mother is a friend of mine and if it weren’t for her telling me where to look, I wouldn’t have found that address so quickly.”

            “Alright, just tell the Aurors too. Or better yet, go to the Burrow first and explain all of this to Ron, Hermione, and Molly.” Harry worried that Cissy’s message might fall on deaf ears if she gave it to the wrong Auror, but Ron wouldn’t let a couple of innocent kids be hurt if he knew. “They’ll handle it from there.”

            Cissy agreed and Harry looked at the note. “One last thing: what’s the quickest way to Muirkirk?” he asked.

            “There’s a wizarding pub called Ye Ol’ Muirkirk Pub. Floo there and then fly the rest of the way in. Here, let me draw you a map,” Cissy said, pulling over a nearby blank sheet of parchment and scribbling in a quick set of directions. “When you get my Draco, you need to return the same way, through the pub floo, so that you don’t damage the baby.”

            “Take the floo, got it. There’s no chance of flooing straight in or out?”

            “Not a chance, if they’re holding Draco prisoner there. If the floo was active, he’d be able to escape.”

            “Right,” Harry said. And then he had the directions, knew the secret, and was flooing off to Scotland.

            Ye Ol’ Pub wasn’t all that close to Rabastan’s hideout, so Harry had a good ways to fly in the bitter cold before he made it. He only knew he’d found it, because the house wasn’t there and then it materialized out of nowhere. By that time he was freezing, but he had too much adrenaline running through his system to be tired. He would’ve stormed the place and rescued Draco right then and there, if the house wasn’t locked up so tight. There was no elf flap, or unlocked doors or windows. He had his invisibility cloak on and he had a broom, but he needed to get into the house undetected and that just wasn’t possible at ten O’clock at night in a house with locking charms and not elves.

            The house looked to be asleep for the night, with all of the lights off, so Harry was left with no choice but to find a place to bunker down for the night. He hated doing it, but it would be better to wait for backup. Thus he found a place to hide in the shrubbery bordering the woods, which was outside of the limits of the magic detection spells that surrounded the house. He cast a cushioning charm, a warming charm, a muffling charm, notice-me-not charm, and a series of repelling charms before crawling in and making sure his invisibility cloak covered him properly.

            It was only an hour wait before the Aurors started trickling in, taking up position surrounding the house. Harry spoke to Walker, who said he was in charge until Engle arrived with the rest of the reinforcements. Engle was another one of the higher up Aurors and was likely in charge because he covered the late shift and it was late at night; Callaway and Robards would be asleep in their beds by now, because even Aurors needed to sleep. It was an additional hour for Engle and the reinforcements, but at least there were a large enough number of reinforcements to all but guarantee a successful mission: if Draco was inside that house, they would get him out alive.

            But, all of the Aurors in the world could not open up that house without tripping the Death Eater’s alarms. Engle and Walker were thorough Aurors who insisted on knowing what they were heading into before storming the place. That was probably for the best, because their detection spells revealed a vast array of wards and booby traps. They had nothing else to do while the Death Eaters slept, so they spent the night dismantling the lot.

            There were still several alarms left on the place when morning came around and the first chance to get into the house undetected appeared. Young Walden Nott opened up the front door to grab some more firewood, propping open the door so that he could get back in with his arms laden down with logs. Harry took the chance and snuck into the house. All of the wards and booby traps were down, along with the broad spectrum magic detection alarm, so now all he had to watch out for were a few alarms. There was an apparition detection alarm, which would probably be his biggest concern, as well as a number of other transportation detection alarms, designed to alert the inhabitants to anyone entering or exiting the house through any manner other than on foot. On the plus side, the Aurors had dismantled the anti-apparition ward in the night, although the floo was still disabled. Thus he could apparate out, but not without alerting the Death Eaters.

            Harry slowly started exploring the house, trying to keep unnoticed and not disturb the Death Eaters while looking for Draco. He completely explored the downstairs without any sign of Draco. Nott was there, stoking the fire back to life, there was a young woman just starting to cook a rather large breakfast, and there was a very small baby in a cradle near the woman. The baby was smaller than Teddy and Harry was glad for Cissy’s warning, because he would’ve hated it if the Aurors hadn’t known and the baby was injured in what was to come. But the Aurors did know and Engle had made getting the children out of there alive his top priority, right next to getting Draco out alive and unscathed. The woman was a secondary concern, because she was old enough that she ought to know what was going on.

            Harry crept silently up the stairs, trying to search thoroughly, but was impeded by a series of closed doors. He had his invisibility cloak on, but there was always a risk associated with daring to open each door, because there could be a Death Eater waiting behind it. He’d come too far to risk exposure and tipping off the enemy before he found Draco. Thus he kept his cool and waited for the Death Eaters to open each door for him.

            Rabastan Lestrange came out of one room with a toddler on his hip not much later. Rabastan left several opened doors behind him, which Harry went through only to confirm that Draco wasn’t behind those doors. One was a master bedroom, another was a nursery, and the final one was a washroom. But there were another two rooms on this floor and an attic above that were all yet to be searched.

            Fifteen minutes later Rabastan came back without the child, so Harry hoped the toddler had ended up with the mum and the baby in the kitchen, because that would make this rescue attempt easier on the Aurors.

            Rabastan went back into the master bedroom and closed the door, probably going back to sleep. Harry had to wait half an hour more before another door opened and Walter Macnair came out. Walter went to the loo, leaving the door open behind him and revealing his father Walden sleeping on one of the two beds inside the room. That left just one bedroom on this floor and the attic. Walter eventually exited the loo and went back into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

            Harry was really beginning to wonder how much longer he’d have to wait before getting a sign of Draco when he heard a banging from upstairs.

            “Stan! Let me out! I have to pee,” Draco’s voice carried through the closed door. “Wally! Walt! Nott! Anyone down there? Davida! This is serious; I really have to go!”

            “Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming! Hold your abraxans!” Stan grumbled coming out of the master bedroom.

            Harry thought for sure that Stan was going to bring Draco down to the second floor to use the same bathroom Walter had used, so he slowly slipped into the open lavatory door. The bathroom was rather spacious, with a large claw-foot tub and he thought he’d be safe in the corner. Then when Draco came in, he could grab him, and apparate away. It would set off the apparition alarm, but that would signal Engle and the rest of the Aurors to storm the place. Hopefully they’d find Davida and the children in the kitchen and get them out to safety.

            “Finally Uncle Stan. You know you’re my favorite uncle, but I really can’t hold it this long. I’m about to piss on your floor,” Draco said.

            Harry could hear the voices fairly well from upstairs; there clearly wasn’t a silencing charm on the floor and the voices seemed to carry through the duct in the ceiling where the ceiling fan was.

            “Sorry Draco, but I—” There were sounds that could’ve been unlocking charms and ward cancellation spells, before the squeaking of hinges, indicating the opening of a door. “—was trying to go back to sleep. First it was Cyril up at the crack of dawn and then it was Myra up early,” Rabastan was saying. Then there was the sound of another door opening. “Have at it. I’ll be waiting.”

            There was the sound of a door closing and then the sound of a heavy stream of piss hitting the water. And that was when Harry realized that he’d miss calculated, because there was another bathroom upstairs. He’d thought it would be a makeshift attic room, but it was at least a makeshift attic room with a loo. While the bathroom noises continued, he quickly changed his plans and made his way up the stairs as silently as possible. Rabastan was waiting there on the landing at the top of the stairs, but he was pressed up against the closed bathroom door, leaving room to access the open bedroom.

            Harry passed so close to Rabastan in the process of slipping into the bedroom that the urge to smash open the Death Eater’s skull was almost irresistible. He wouldn’t kill the dark wizard, because he still wasn’t the type to kill. But after the desperate three day long search for Draco and their unborn child, Harry was angry enough to unleash some physical violence. Punching a Death Eater would feel very cathartic right now and even a stunning spell would hold some gratification. But it was too risky, because there were other Death Eaters in the house who would hear and come running. His first priority had to be getting to Draco and getting Draco out safely. Thus he had to leave vengeance to the other Aurors.

            Inside the bedroom, Harry looked around for the best place to wait. There was a chance Draco wouldn’t come back in this room at all, but he didn’t think that was probable, because there were only the two doors off of the landing. Draco seemed to be kept locked up like the prisoner he was, so Harry didn’t think Draco would be allowed to roam around the house during the day. Harry didn’t want to be in the way when Draco came back into the room, in case Rabastan came with Draco, but he also didn’t want to be tucked into too tight a corner and have trouble getting to Draco once they were alone. He was imagining grabbing Draco and apparating out of here the moment they were alone in the room together with the door locked shut behind them.

            The toilet flushed and then there was the sound of a door opening again.

            “You know I’m not going to run away Uncle Stan. Why would I ever want to go back to Auror custody and that infernal Potter? I was never more pleased than when I realized you’d come to rescue me,” Draco said.

            “Excuse me if I don’t believe you young Draco, but you did fight me when I grabbed you from the Smith’s Clinic,” Rabastan replied.

            “I thought you were Uncle Rody. Can you imagine going with Uncle Rody willingly?”

            “Rody’s dead, just like Bella.”

            “Yes, but in that moment I wasn’t thinking about that. All I was thinking was that there were four Death Eaters surrounding me, one of which I was positive was my Uncle Rody and another could’ve been Auntie Bella. I know they’re dead, logically, but at that moment I thought for sure they had somehow faked their deaths and come back for me. I’ve _told_ you this; when are you going to believe me? You and Auntie Davida are _infinitely_ better than Auntie Bella and Uncle Rody. I’ve met flobberworms I’ve liked better than Uncle Rody and I’ve never met _anybody_ , except for Potter, who I like worse than Auntie Bella.”

            “You can come down after Davida finishes up breakfast, like yesterday.”

            “But why can’t I come down now? I could help Auntie Davida by watching Cyril and Myra for her; I’ve noticed no one else wants to help her with the babies.”

            “And you’re real domestic now, aren’t you? Being knocked up by our Lord has really changed you.”

            “I take my assignment very seriously, especially now. This baby is His heir; we’ll all worship him, just as we worshiped his magnificent father. I consider myself very lucky to have been chosen for this task.”

            While Draco said the last bit, they heard the faint sound of someone down below announcing breakfast.

            “I’m sure you do, but as it stands, we don’t trust you. You’re staying put until after Davida cleans up breakfast. I’ll go down now and get you a plate,” Rabastan said and motioned for Draco to return to the room.

            “Fine, but it better not be another one of those greasy fry-ups you like so much or you’re going to have to get me my pregnancy approved heart-burn potion,” Draco said, entering the room.

            “Davida was never so bossy when she was pregnant,” Rabastan said, shutting the door on Draco. They could hear the sound of magical wards locking back into place along with the sound of sliding metal and the click of a physical lock.

            The moment the door was locked, Draco waddled as fast as he could to the dresser, where he pulled out an ancient black leather bound book and a black bag. He set the book on top of the dresser and hurriedly flipped through the pages.

            Harry was frozen in place. Somewhere in the back as his mind he knew this was the moment he’d been waiting for to snatch Draco away, but the conversation between Draco and Rabastan kept running through his head. Draco wanted to stay here with Rabastan and the Death Eaters. Draco thought Harry was worse than Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco thought it was an honor to be carrying Voldemort’s child. In that instant Harry thought that maybe the baby really was Voldemort’s in some way and that everything Draco had told him since coming to live with him was a lie.

            Harry should’ve moved already and gotten Draco out of there, but he was having second thoughts, thinking about the fact that Draco didn’t want to go with him. And what if the baby was his in blood only? He’d contributed his blood towards Voldemort’s body, but what if Voldemort’s soul had some effect on the baby? What if the baby came out with red eyes, the ability to talk to snakes, and a hatred of all things muggle? Maybe the baby would have Harry’s blood running through its veins, but might it be Voldemort’s child in spirit? Might it possess Voldemort’s horrid personality or lack thereof? Harry had been so convinced that he and Draco were getting on lately that he was completely blindsided by this turn of events and absolutely devastated.

            But had they _truly_ been getting on, or was Draco putting on a show, while covering up his true hatred for Harry? Harry’s mind was drawn back to the morning of Draco’s kidnapping, when he’d woken up to Draco crying, while lying in the bed with him. He hadn’t gotten to talk to Draco about it or apologize. He wasn’t entirely sure why Draco had been crying, but he thought it was because Draco had noticed his attraction and it was unwanted on Draco’s part. He’d been having a wet dream and had probably been humping Draco in his sleep, again. Odds were Draco was sick of it. Maybe Draco was even sicker of him than he’d thought. Draco was his prisoner and just making the best of the situation, possibly even luring Harry into a since of false security, to make it easier to escape.

            While Harry thought, life went on. Draco turned the pages in the black book, peering into the bag as if to double check something. And then footsteps were heard on the stairs and Draco quickly shoved the book and bag back into the drawer, covering them with some cloth. It was Walden Macnair at the door this time and he was delivering Draco a plate. Draco grumbled a complaint about the greasy food and Macnair told him to shove it, before closing the door. Draco abandoned the tray of food on the dresser and returned to his book and bag, before Macnair had even finished warding and locking the door.

            Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Draco just abandon a meal like that, without even trying to find some portion of it to eat; not while pregnant at least. In his shock, Harry thought that maybe the food was really far greasier than what Draco should be eating. After all, fried foods were on the list of things Draco should avoid in order to lower his blood pressure. These Death Eaters either didn’t know that or weren’t being accommodating. In either case, it wasn’t right, because it was dangerous for the baby. What if Draco’s blood pressure shot through the roof from all these bacon sandwiches? Draco didn’t seem to have a wand, so he couldn’t monitor his blood pressure. He wouldn’t even know if it was too high.

            It occurred to Harry then that what was best for the baby was not to stay here with the Death Eaters, even if it was part Voldemort’s baby. If Voldemort had a role is shaping this baby through her conception, it was a minor role. Voldemort was dead and a baby had limitless potential. Maybe she would’ve turned into an evil heiress if Voldemort had lived and had a hand in raising her, but he was dead and gone and the child didn’t have to follow in Voldemort’s footsteps. In fact, if she was raised by good people, then she would most likely turn into a good person herself. Therefore the baby didn’t deserve to be left here, no matter how much Draco hated Harry. If Draco disliked the situation that much, he could get Robards to reassign Draco to some other Auror’s custody. Let’s see how much Draco likes that.

            Harry went instantly into action the moment he made the decision to get Draco and the baby out. He stepped forward and threw off his cloak, startling Draco, who let out an eeep sound. Draco fumbled the book and the bag, tossing them back into the drawer before he even realized Harry was there. And because Draco’s noise was loud and Harry remembered how easily sound transferred before, he cast a muffling charm on the floor, so that the Death Eaters wouldn’t hear anything else. With any luck, they would ignore Draco’s partial scream.

            Draco turned his head quickly one way and then the other, before settling his eyes on Harry. His hands went up to his heart and he seemed to sag as he took several deep breaths. Then he recovered and stood up. “Well it looks like I won’t need the floo powder if you’re here to rescue me then. Took you so long I was planning on rescuing myself.”

            “What? No, you were just telling Rabastard how much you wanted to stay with him.”

            “Did you get hit in the head or is there some other reason you’re particularly daft today Potter?”

            “Huh?”

            “You left me here with these Death Eaters for _three_ days! I thought you’d abandoned me to them. They made your life less complicated by getting rid of me, just like you wanted all along! I was planning on making floo powder to escape and save myself; I’d have to convince Stan to drop his guard and open up the floo, but he’s already halfway there. See, the book I found at Spinner’s End with the recipe for floo powder and the bag full of everything I need to brew it?” Draco asked, pulling the book and bag back out. Sure enough there was a cauldron, a mortar and pestle, and several jars and vials of potions ingredients. “I know you don’t want me anymore, but I’m still a Ministry prisoner, so the Aurors will _have_ to take me. I’ll just file a complaint about you leaving me with Death Eaters and get you removed from my case. Robards promised I’d be kept safe when I agreed to go into Ministry custody. The paperwork you signed said that you’d keep them away from me, not leave me with them for _days_. With any luck, I’ll have you fired.”

            Harry was too busy digesting the news of Draco’s escape plans to pay attention to Draco’s complaint about his lack of proper Death Eater free care. “You were going to brew floo powder? That’s highly dangerous! It says right here—” Harry pointed to the warnings written directly under the name of the potion at the top of the page Draco had marked in the black book—“that it’s explosive in the condensing stage. And then if it’s not made just right, you’ll burn up when you step into the fire! That’s why we buy it from a well-qualified source,” Harry ranted. “Not to mention, you’re not supposed to be brewing while pregnant.”

            “Well I won’t have to brew anything now that you’ve gotten off your lazy arse and decided to come rescue me after all. I bet if I were anyone else you would’ve gotten to me within hours; minutes if I had red hair and Weasley for a last name. Enjoying your little break from me, were you? I’m sorry I’m such a bother. Why don’t you just get me transferred over to the Burrow? Molly does most of the guarding me anyway.”

            “I thought you liked Molly!”

            “I do!”

            “Then what’s the problem?”

            “You just _left_ me here with these horrible people while I’m pregnant with your baby! Why didn’t you come for me?”

            “I’ve been looking for you all this time you great bloody git! Do you have any idea how hard this place was to find? It’s under a Fidelius charm, which we still haven’t broken, by the way. If it wasn’t for your mum being friends with Davida and Rabastan’s mums, she would’ve never found the secret and I would’ve never found you.”

            “So you were looking for me?” Draco asked, all of the sudden sounding meek and humble, instead of angry.

            “Yes, I was. And you were trying to escape to get back to me?” Harry asked hopefully.

            Draco nodded. Realization dawned on Harry then that everything Draco had said to Rabastan was a lie. Harry was so happy in that moment that he grabbed Draco, pulling Draco into his arms, squishing their bodies together, and kissed Draco. Not a little peck on the cheek of mild affection, but a full blown all out French kiss with his tongue slipping into Draco’s mouth. When Harry came to his senses, he wasn’t sure why he’d done it, because he didn’t think Draco returned his feelings. Harry was just about to pull back and apologize, when Draco returned the kiss, just as urgently. Draco’s hands were clenched in Harry’s Auror robes, holding Harry close to him. Draco’s huge belly was pressed against Harry’s hip and even the baby got into the action, by giving a solid kick.

            The kiss was going so well and Harry was thinking that Draco really was reciprocating his feelings and wanted this just as much as he did. But then Draco pushed Harry away and grabbed his stomach, sinking down towards the floor. Harry caught Draco and supported his weight, preventing the impending collapse.

            “What’s wrong?” Harry asked, hoping that it wasn’t him and the kiss. Could a really bad kiss have this strong of an effect? Might this be the opposite of chemistry, where instead of an instant attraction, there was an instant repulsion?  
            “The baby’s coming. Take me to St. Mungo’s please,” Draco pleaded, holding onto Harry’s arm with his left hand, while his right hand was still clutched to his chest.

            “But it’s too soon! You’ve still got another month to go,” Harry replied frantically.

            “I know, that’s why I need to get to the hospital now,” Draco insisted.

            Harry didn’t need to be told thrice and in the next instant, he deliberately turned on the spot with his destination and determination in mind, setting off the apparition alarm and alerting the Death Eaters to their escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliff-hanger, I know. But this chapter is already getting very long, so you’ll have to wait for the next chapter for the rest.
> 
> In other news, I finished one of my other fanfictions this week. I’m one of those authors who don’t like to start new stories until I finish the ones I’m already working on. Now that I’ve finally finished one, I can start another. I had an idea a while ago for a story similar to this one, with Voldemort getting Draco pregnant, but with a major change: there is no spell to easily determine paternity. Then no one would know who the father really was and Harry wouldn’t be involved initially. Draco gets left in jail and eventually Harry comes into the picture and decides to get involved, still not knowing who the father is. And because I don’t like writing the same story twice, I’ve changed all of the other details of the story to be completely different from this one, including the fact that most of the story isn’t told until 7 years later. So if you’re looking for a new story to read, I highly recommend it. It’s called Harry Potter and the Malfoy Male Pregnancy Curse.
> 
> Please Review!


	28. Chapter28

            St. Mungo’s in London was too far to apparate Draco straight too, so Harry apparated them to the nearby pub first, before using the floo. He feared losing Draco again if he let Draco go and he didn’t think Draco could physically make it through the long floo journey without support. Thus they went through the floo together, with Harry holding Draco’s body close.

            Harry became intimately familiar with the reason why two grown men didn’t usually floo together: the floo was too small. On their very first rotation Harry’s hand hit the brick interior of the floo network and he realized in horror that Draco too was being scrapped against brick. There wasn’t much he could do, because they had to get to St. Mungo’s, so he did the only thing he could do: he positioned Draco’s body in the middle of the small area and let his own body take all of the impacts with the brick wall as they spun around and around. It hurt, but it was better than the alternative.

            Harry was bleeding from about a dozen cuts as he pulled Draco out of the floo at the St. Mungo’s Maternity and Paternity ward. A young receptionist who worked the desk was the first one to see them and rushed over.

            “Help! He’s gone into labor!” Harry cried desperately, struggling to support Draco’s weight and move towards the emergency room.

            The receptionist sounded the alarm and before she even had it fully out of her mouth, two strong looking medi-wizards were running towards them with a wheelchair. Draco was quickly maneuvered into the chair and pushed into the back, where he was transferred to a bed. Harry recognized Healer Stebbins, as she and several nurses rushed to examine Draco. Harry didn’t know what to do with himself while he waited. He was never the most patient of wizards, so he took to pacing back and forth in the emergency room.

            “Excuse me sir, but I need you to come with me and explain what happened. I can patch those scrapes of yours up too,” an older nurse requested. She had a pin on her scrubs that identified her as Diane.

            Harry nodded and tore himself away from his pacing to follow Diane. She only took him to the other side of the room, so he could still see Draco and the healers rushing about. That was a good thing, but she wanted Harry to sit down and that was quite impossible. He sat and then jumped right back up in his stress, accidentally knocking her wand away as she attempted to heal one of his deeper cuts.

            “What’s going on with Draco? Are they delivering the baby?” Harry asked frantically. “Please tell me. You _have_ to tell me.”

            “Calm down and I will explain what I know, but I also need to know what you know,” Diane explained in a soothing voice and indicating with a hand gesture that Harry should sit again. He sat and she returned her wand to his cuts, sealing them shut, but not bothering to clean the dried blood off of his skin. “We are not delivering the baby yet. So far Healer Stebbins has administered a calming draught and is preparing to administer a potion to lower his blood pressure, which is the major concern. But even if we do have to deliver the baby today, he’s far enough along that the baby will be fine. What you can do to help is to calm down, take a deep breath in and let it out.” He did as instructed and watched as she sealed up another scratch. It hadn’t hurt before, but now that she was messing with the cuts, he could feel the sting. “In…out.” Harry wasn’t calm exactly, but he was calmer. “Now tell me what has happened.”

            And so while Diane tended to his scrapes, Harry told her everything, from the kidnapping, to the argument, to the kiss, to Draco’s labor pain. She stopped him several times to tell him to calm down and breath properly, but eventually he got it out. Then she promised to relay the information to the healer and come back with an update for him. By this time all of his cuts were either healed or had stopped bleeding on their own.

            “But first, there are two women out in the waiting room for the pair of you. It says here they are Molly Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy. Do you think you can handle speaking to them for a few minutes?” Diane asked.

            Harry agreed and let Diane lead him out to the waiting room, where he was ambushed by Molly and Cissy. Harry explained what he knew in short bursts in between panicked breaths, leaving out the kiss and the argument. Now that Diane’s calming presence was gone, he was back to panicking. At least there was more room to pace out here. Cissy was fidgeting anxiously in a way Harry had never seen her do before and Molly was dabbing at Harry’s dried blood on his arms with a wet cloth and chanting, “It’s alright. It’s going to be alright,” repeatedly in a soothing voice.

            About ten minutes after Diane left them, she came back with news, “Draco is calming down; the potions are working. The baby is under an increased amount of stress, but she’s holding in there and not in critical danger at the moment. The prognosis is looking up.”

            “Oh thank Merlin!” Molly exclaimed.

            “Can I go back to see him?” Harry asked.

            “Can we?” Cissy echoed.

            “One person may go back there and hold his hand at a time. He asked for his mother. Are one of you ladies his mother?” Diane asked.

            Cissy jumped up in the air and practically shouted, “I am! You may take me back there.”

            Diane talked Cissy through a few breathing exercises first, telling her that what Draco needed right now was a calm person to lean on for support, not an over excited person to rile his blood pressure back up. Cissy calmed down and the two women went back into the emergency room, leaving Harry alone with Molly in the waiting room. Molly offered Harry comforting words, assuring him that he’d get to see Draco next, while dabbing at a cut on his hand.

            The next bit of news came when Ron and Hermione rushed into the room, spotting Harry and Molly and dashing over. “How is he?” Hermione asked frantically.

            “The nurse said he’s going to be alright. They just need to keep him calm for now,” Harry explained. “What happened in Muirkirk?”

            “We got the wife and kids out of there safely and the two younger Death Eaters are in custody. Lestrange and Macnair are still hold up on the second floor, fighting it out. The moment you left, Engle activated an anti-apparition ward, so they’re trapped; we’ve got them,” Ron revealed. “But what happened to you?”

            “Floo cut me up,” Harry replied with a shrugged.

            Ron’s great news took Harry’s mind off of the situation for several minutes, but then Healer Smith came out to talk to them.

            “What are you doing here? Where’s Healer Stebbins?” Harry asked. Healer Smith seemed competent, but Healer Stebbins specialized in pregnancy emergencies and he felt more secure with Stebbins on the case than Smith.

            “Healer Stebbins is tending to Draco. I was notified that Draco was brought in, and as his primary healer, I came to see if there is anything I can do to help. I helped Healer Stebbins calm Draco down. He is in fine hands; she is an excellent healer. He will need to stay in hospital for us to monitor him, but the worst of the danger has past,” Smith answered.

            “Is the baby coming?” Harry asked.

            “Definitely not,” Smith replied.

            “You stopped the labor then?” Harry asked eagerly.

            “That is too soon to tell,” Stebbins said.”

            “Huh? How do you know the baby isn’t coming if the labor hasn’t stopped?”

            “I suspect that it was prodromal labor and not a true contraction.”

            “Uh?” Harry glanced at the women, checking to make sure they knew what the healer was talking about and that Smith wasn’t making this up. Molly looked relieved and Hermione was nodding along in understanding. Then he looked at Ron, who shrugged, indicating that Harry wasn’t the only one in the room lost.

            “It is common for the uterine muscles to contract prior to labor. They are benign and don’t lead to actual labor.”

            “But if it _is_ actual labor contractions?”  
            “Harry, how much do you know about the birthing process with regards to a male pregnancy?” Smith asked.  
            “Not much.”

            “Then let me explain. With a wizard, there is no natural opening for the baby to come out of. The birth requires quite a bit of magic and can only happen at the proper time, when both the father and the baby want it to come out. Ultimately it is apparition that is responsible for the miracle.”

            “Apparition?” Harry asked in dismay.

            “Yes, apparition. The father and the baby turn on the spot with the baby inside the father, while concentrating very hard on an image of the baby outside of his body. They reappear in the same spot and if everything worked correctly, the baby is in the father’s arms. It can take a few tries for first time fathers to manage, but it gets easier and easier with each baby. There was a case a few years ago over in Bristol where a wizard having his fourth child didn’t even bother to come in to hospital. He went into labor, turned on the spot right where he was, and out popped the baby.”

            “So unless Draco apparates the baby out…”

            “The baby won’t come out. The birth-apparition requires a magical build-up from the baby as well, so a wizard cannot just decide he’s done being pregnant and force the baby out. Your daughter’s magic is well below the level needed for the birth, so she won’t be coming out for weeks, at least,” Smith replied.

            “The baby’s a squib?” Harry asked in horror. Not that he wouldn’t love her either way, but he couldn’t imagine Draco being okay with it. “How’s she going to get out if she doesn’t have any magic?”

            “That is not what I said. She is _not_ a squib. Her magical level is too low for the birth, but it is not zero. She has magic and it has been building steadily over the period of time I have been seeing Draco. I have no doubt that she will be ready next month, when the pregnancy is full term.”

            “Oh thank Merlin!”

            “But if a wizard were to produce a squib or for some reason the baby needed to come out before being magically ready, there is a procedure we healers can perform called a Caesarian section. That is where we magically slice through the belly and retrieve the baby manually. It’s not at all preferable to an apparition birth, but in emergencies it is the only alternative.”

            “What sort of emergencies?” Hermione asked, piping up for the first time.

            “Well like earlier today when Draco’s blood pressure was dangerously high for example. If we were not able to get it down like we did, then the baby would be in danger. The pregnancy is advanced enough that the baby would survive if born today, so instead of risking a still birth, we would’ve performed a Caesarian section and removed the baby. But, as I said, Draco is responding to the potions and I have every confidence that the baby is doing just fine,” Smith answered.

            “Can I see him?” Harry asked.

            “Let me check; Cissy is with him now and we can only have one person back there with him at a time,” Smith replied, before going back into the emergency room.

            It was five minutes more before Smith came back out with Cissy, depositing her in a chair in the waiting room.

            “He’s doing fine. He’s not in labor,” Cissy said and everyone sighed in relief.

            Smith escorted Harry back to see Draco then, explaining, “He’s feeling very groggy. He needs to rest, but you may speak to him first.”

            And then Harry was there, taking the seat by Draco’s bed and pulling Draco’s hand into his hands, clutching it to his chest. “How are you feeling?”  
            “Sleepy,” Draco replied, having trouble keeping his eyes open.

            “That’s because they have you all drugged up to stop the pro-dro-mal labor,” Harry replied, trying to use the word he’d just learned.

            “Actually, Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy wasn’t in prodromal labor,” Healer Stebbins said, turning away from her monitoring charms for a moment to speak to them.

            “He wasn’t? But he said…and he was in pain,” Harry protested.

            “He may have thought it was a contraction, but according to the latest tests, he wasn’t. What young Draco mistook for labor was chest pain from the extremely rapid heart rate and high blood pressure, combined with your little girl kicking him in the kidneys. Now that we’ve gotten back into the normal range, the pain has stopped.”

            “Was it my fault?” Harry asked. “The blood pressure, I mean.”

            “No. He was under a lot of stress with the kidnapping. Without a wand he wasn’t able to monitor his blood pressure for the last three days and he didn’t know that it was rising. The drama of the rescue was too much for him and pushed him over the proverbially edge.”

            “So it wasn’t the arguing? Or the…” Harry gulped, “kiss?”

            “The arguing did not help, but it wasn’t the kiss. Now Draco really does need to get some rest, so I suggest you say a few words to him and let him sleep,” Stebbins replied.

            “Thanks,” Harry said and turned his attention back to Draco. Draco’s eyes were closed, but they fluttered open again when Harry squeezed his hand. “Are you still mad at me?”

            “No; you came for us. We already resolved this…” Draco answered groggily.

            “I meant about the kiss. I got carried away in the heat of the moment.”

            “The kiss was nice. I will be mad at you if you take it back or if it doesn’t happen again.”

            And with those few words, Harry’s heart soared, because now he absolutely knew that without a doubt, Draco returned his feelings. They weren’t up to where they were in his fantasies, but they just might get there. “Oh absolutely,” Harry said leaning down and placing a chaste kiss softly on Draco’s lips. Draco’s tongue darted out, but Harry drew back. “You need to rest. We can snog when you’re better.”

            “I’ll hold you to that,” Draco said and closed his eyes again.

            “Your mum or I will be here when you wake up; they’re only letting one of us back here at a time.”

            Harry placed one more kiss to Draco’s forehead and then watched as Draco drifted off to sleep. He stayed there watching Draco sleep. Some tome later, Healer Stebbins announced that Draco’s blood pressure was stabilizing down in the normal range, which was great news. Harry yawned then, because he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night, which she noticed.

            “Draco is fine, really. You can go home and sleep Mister Potter,” Stebbins said kindly.

            “No, I don’t want to leave him,” Harry replied. He just couldn’t go, not after barely getting Draco back. Not to mention that Draco had thought Harry had abandoned him to the Death Eaters…no, he just couldn’t go.

            “Alright, then I can have one of the nurses set you up in a bed and you can take a nap.”

            Harry agreed to that, but only after he went back out to the waiting room to tell everyone what was going on. Cissy retook the seat by Draco’s side, while Molly, Ron, and Hermione went home, and Harry napped.

            Later that evening, not long after Harry and Draco woke up and ate thirds on dinner, Head Auror Robards came by with news.

            “Rabastan Lestrange and Walden Macnair refused to come willingly and were killed, rather than allow themselves to be captured. Walter and Francine Macnair, Walden Nott, and Arnold Filch are all in custody, awaiting trial. The children, Myra and Cyril, were taken to Madam Lestrange. Davida is being examined here at St. Mungo’s. Apparently there is some mental retardation due to the fact that her parents are first cousins, which is why she agreed to marry a Death Eater like Lestrange in the first place. Why she stayed and didn’t report the kidnapping seems to be due to the imperious curse,” Robards explained.

            “Thank you sir. I think I’ll need some time off from training to take care of Draco,” Harry replied.

            “Yes, of course. Take all of the time you need; Callaway already informed me that after the way you performed out in the field with this case, he is passing you and Weasley.”

            “But we haven’t even taken our final examination yet.”

            “Potter, at this point you could get a zero on that exam and still pass Auror training.”

            “So do I still have to take it?”

            “Decidedly not. Callaway is pushing to count performance during this case in place of a final exam grade. Those who performed less than adequately may still take the test, but there is no need for you or Weasley to sit it. Besides, if we were to fail the Savior of the Wizarding World after scoring the single highest grade in the Auror training program the Ministry has ever seen, the people would be in an uproar.”

            “And we can’t have that,” Harry replied, feeling relieved that he would not be expected back at work anytime soon. He wanted to stay home and take care of Draco for the time being; once Draco is released that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting close to the end, which means it’s time to start thinking about the sequel. Do you think I should write one? Do you want to read more of these characters and their story? To help you make up your mind, here is what I was thinking: it would start 1.5 years after this baby is born, making her a cute little toddler. It will be a drama about Harry and Draco’s marital problems, caused by misunderstandings, Harry’s general cluelessness, and Draco getting fed up with Harry. There would be a divorce scare, a second baby, and Harry will get Lucius released from Azkaban. Then when they get back together, their relationship will be on more equal footing, with Harry accepting Draco’s friends and some of his pureblood ideals. But I won’t write it, if there isn’t an audience for it. So if you want it, let me know.
> 
> Please Review!


	29. Chapter29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I decided to write a little lemon for this story, so I’ve increased the rating. If you are under the age of 17, you can read the fanfiction version of this story (where the lemon is removed), but please do not read this version. If you are a consenting adult, feel free to continue.

            Draco was held in hospital for five long days as the healers monitored him and kept his blood pressure down. There were minor blips in his recovery, because he had to get off the blood pressure potion before he could go home. Every time the potion began to leave his system, his blood pressure would start back on the rise, which would stress him out, causing it to rise further. That led to the healers giving him another dose of potion and the process repeating. But each time his blood pressure didn’t rise quite as high as it had before, leading to smaller and smaller doses of potion. And then on the fourth day, he stabilized without the potion, at a reasonable pressure. After holding steady for a day, he was allowed to go home, provided that he stay on bed rest and regularly monitor his blood pressure.

            Harry was so happy that Draco and the baby were okay that he eagerly volunteered to wait on Draco hand and foot during Draco’s infirmary. Harry was fine with it, at first, because it was all for the sake of the baby. A few days down the road he went mad with the task, but by then Molly, Cissy, and Dromeda were set on a schedule of visits, and one of them came by to relieve Harry. And after a few hours break, he was relaxed enough to resume his servitude. Luckily for Harry, the bed rest only lasted a fortnight before Healer Smith announced that Draco was recovered enough to get out of bed. That wasn’t to say getting out of bed was easy for Draco, because at nine months pregnant he was bigger than ever and waddling like a duck. But they had an elf and waddling got Draco to the loo, drawing room, and the nursery, which was all he really needed.

            There had been a very short, but highly necessary, discussion on the nature of their relationship. Harry had asked Draco to be his boyfriend and Draco had agreed under the condition that it be official. Official meant getting Lucius Malfoy’s signature on a Ministry Courting Contract, which meant a visit to Lucius in the Ministry Holding Facility. Lucius had flat out refused to sign a courting contract with Draco’s jailor, which he claimed was tantamount to slavery. Lucius had been very vocal about how offensive the idea of selling his son as a sex slave to Harry Bloody Potter was. He swore up and down that he’d never sign so long as Draco was in Harry’s custody.

            What Lucius was saying did make sense, if Harry didn’t know that it wasn’t like that. Plus Harry no longer felt that Draco should be punished for anything he did during the war, because Draco hadn’t been at fault. Draco was merely the victim of his father’s poor choices and forced to play the role of the son of a Death Eater. Draco hadn’t been able to kill, hadn’t liked torture, had no taste for war, and didn’t know what he was getting into until it was too late. Plus, as his boyfriend and the father of his first born, Harry had a great personal gain associated with Draco’s freedom; the last thing he wanted was Draco taken to Azkaban and to have to raise their daughter on his own.

            Of course Draco didn’t have to worry about Azkaban now. The wizarding press had jumped all over the story of Draco’s kidnapping, portraying him as Harry Potter’s entirely innocent boyfriend, who was guilty of nothing more than having a Death Eater for a father. That suited Harry just fine, because he wanted the case dropped against Draco and he’d told Kingsley so. He had a lot of pent up aggression that he hadn’t been allowed to vent on the few surviving kidnappers, which he took out on Kingsley. He demanded that all charges against Draco be dropped or he would quit the Aurors and go to the press. Harry was exceedingly popular with the wizarding voters, so no one could hope to hold the position of Minister for Magic without his seal of approval. That meant Kingsley had caved and promised to begin court proceedings to drop the charges against Draco immediately.

            Harry had also demanded of Kingsley that the entire Malfoy fortune be returned to Draco, as the rightful heir. It was their daughter’s inheritance, after all and he’d decided she should have it, not the Ministry. Plus Draco was egging him on at home, pulling out Harry’s law books and pointing out a law from the thirteenth century that said it was illegal to confiscate funds before the defendant’s lawyer was paid and the defendant convicted of the crime. The Ministry hadn’t wanted to wait for the conviction, because everyone knew that the moment the money was turned over to Lucius, he would spend half of it on a dream team of lawyers and give the rest to his son; there would be nothing left in those vaults come the end of the trial. It wouldn’t be taken from Draco and the money would remain in Malfoy hands.

            Kingsley had been harder to convince on the monetary issue, because they needed that money desperately for repairs, but Harry didn’t back down. Harry threatened to hire a lawyer to sew the Ministry for return of the funds and to pay for Lucius’ dream team himself; if he got Lucius off there was no legal grounds to seize his vaults. The Minister had eventually caved, but only when Harry agreed to publically endorse Kingsley in his coming campaign; Kingsley had gained his position through an act of war and now that the war was over, a proper election was to be held this coming fall.

            In the end, Harry’d had his way with Kingsley, Lucius got his way with Harry, and Draco got his official piece of paper saying that they were legally dating. That had made Draco happy and easier to wait on. Besides, waiting on Draco wasn’t really that bad. After the bed rest was lifted Harry preferred to do things like putting together the nursery for Draco, instead of worrying that Draco was going to hurt himself doing it. Draco still wanted to be involved and make sure everything was just right, so Harry relegated him to the rocking chair to supervise.

            A beautiful mural of a unicorn eating blue, star-shaped flowers had been painted on the wall facing the crib. An exquisite cream colored blanket decorated with tiny eyelets had been added, along with matching bumper pads and a tan on cream flower-patterned sheet. It all looked very stately against the dark antique Malfoy nursery furniture, with a new matching tan on cream flower-patterned seat cushion for the rocking chair. The large antique dresser was stuffed full of newborn baby clothes given to them at the baby shower, while the changing table had a new cream colored pad on top and the shelves were lined with nappies, wipes, and baby lotion.

            The closet was chalked full of baby things, like a bouncer, baby bathtub, stroller, and carseat. Some of the things were hand-me-downs from Teddy and came ready to go, while the rest Harry had put together or set up. Most everything had been simple to prepare and had Harry feeling like a proper dad, taking care of his family. The only real challenge was the swing, which was today’s task. He was almost done.

            A blue daisy patterned fabric covered the swing, which Narcissa had picked to match the mural on the wall; they were the same shade of blue, although the type of flowers differed. Harry had paid for the swing, buying the top-of-the-line model Draco had asked for, which made him all the more proud of the very expensive contraption once it was assembled. He snapped the toy bar into place and stood back with a satisfied smile on his face at his accomplishment.

            “Great, just move it into that corner there, clean up, and the nursery is set,” Draco said, indicating the one free corner of the room. He had a demure smile on his face and rested both hands on the top of his gigantic stomach.

            Harry moved the swing as directed and then knelt down in front of Draco, to talk to their little girl. “Hey princess, your daddies have your room all ready for you. You’re going to love it.”

            “And the new Persian rug ties it all together,” Draco added, speaking to his stomach. It was a costly blue, crème, and tan colored rug in an ornate pattern that he’d insisted they needed.

            Harry wasn’t sure why they need a fifty galleon magical rug for a nursery when he’d already spelled the carpet tan, but Draco had wanted it, so he’d bought it. Draco hadn’t asked for many things and had saved them hundreds by bringing the Malfoy nursery furniture. And Draco’s family (not his parents, but his extended family composed mostly of grandparents and second cousins) had gotten together to throw their own mini-baby shower. It was only a lunch with ice cream and presents, but they had given them all of the elegant looking bedding and nursery décor, except for the rug. Harry was certain it cost a fortune; he thought that if his parents and Sirius had been alive, they’d want to contribute as much as the snobby purebloods, rationalizing the purchase of an insanely expensive rug.

            There was something Harry had been hoping Draco would explain to him properly for some time now. He had Hermione’s explanation, but he wanted Draco’s take on it too. He’d been hoping Draco might bring it up, but Draco hadn’t. Their daughter was going to be here any day and it was now or never, so he bucked up the courage and asked. “Um, Draco?”

            “Yes Harry?”

            “Now that we’re seeing each other, will you tell me how it’s possible that wizards can get pregnant?” Harry knew, but he didn’t quite believe it.

            Draco huffed and affected a put upon frown. “Why didn’t someone else tell you the facts of life? Babies come from sex Harry. The mingling of ejaculatory fluids? I didn’t, you know, but _He_ mingled our fluids.”

            “I know that, but you’re not a girl. How can you get pregnant?”

            “Didn’t Granger or Weasley explain this to you yet?”

            “Yes, but…”—Harry waved his hands around in the air, searching for the right words—“It was very…confusing. I’d like to hear it from you; you’re the one having my baby.”

            “Well you’re right not to take anything from them; Hermione only knows what she read in a book and Ron has the IQ of a toadstool.”

            Harry cleared his throat at that. Now that they were dating, Draco had opened up more and began speaking his old mind. Harry liked that he now seemed to be getting a more _honest_ opinion from Draco, but that also meant that Draco had become braver when it came to insulting Harry’s friends. Draco blamed it on his frazzled full-term pregnancy brain, which left him acting spacy sometimes and he normally caught his runaway tongue if Harry pointed it out.

            “Okay, right, sorry. So legend says that thousands of years ago there was a wizard who wanted children more than anything else in the world,” Draco began, retelling the same story that was in the children’s book Hermione had given Harry before leaving for Hogwarts. “Unfortunately, this wizard was a flaming poof and that just wasn’t possible. His husband could no more bare children than he could, so they went without a child to brighten their lives. Then one day the wizard came across a unicorn lying in his yard.

            “This unicorn was very badly injured with a broken leg and showed evidence of having been attacked by werewolves or some other dark creature. The wounds were infected and the unicorn was very sick; possibly on the verge of death. The wizard, being a dragon herder trained in the veterinary medical arts, cured the infection, fixed the broken leg, and patched the bite marks right up. The unicorn was still weak, so the wizard carried her into his barn and nursed her back to health until she was fully recovered.

            “When she was healthy, she wanted to thank the wizard and told him that she would grant him any one wish he wanted. His only wish had always been for children. He had his dragons, which he protected from dragon slaying muggle knights, but dragons were not his own flesh and blood. He desperately yearned for a child and he told the unicorn so. She granted his wish, touching her horn to his stomach, and nine months later a son was born to the wizard and his husband.

            “Of course some say it was his husband’s fertility potion or a blessing from a mother dragon whose clutch of eggs he’d saved from muggles. Or maybe it was a combination of the three, but ever since then the wizard’s male descendants have been able to bear children,” Draco finished.

            “So all the stories about slaying unicorns for their horns, to um…” Harry trailed off, not wanting to accuse his boyfriend of buggering himself on a unicorn horn, but wanting to make sure. A pair of annoying blokes at work always made a buggering motion and whispered, “Unicorn horn,” whenever Draco was mentioned in their presence. After the kidnapping, _every_ Auror knew who Draco was and how he’d come to be pregnant with Harry’s baby. Sometimes it meant he didn’t have to explain shit, but normally it was just annoying that everyone knew his business, especially the department clowns.

            “Completely made up as a bad joke. Some wizards are intimidated by queers, so they make shit up.”

            “Good.” Harry was relieved at the confirmation, even though Hermione had already told him that that story was absolutely impossible. “Not that they make shit up, but ah, that it’s not true. But, um, that still doesn’t explain how it’s possible. You know, physically?”

            Draco had a look on his face that expressed disbelief in having to explain such an obvious, personal fact. “Outwardly I only have male parts. Internally I have the necessary plumbing to get pregnant.”

            “And to deliver?” The healer had explained the process, but turning on the spot and coming out with a baby seemed pretty incredulous to Harry. Thus, he wanted Draco’s confirmation. He hadn’t asked before, because he’d been too worried about stressing Draco out and keeping Draco’s blood pressure down. But with the baby coming, he needed to know.

            “Apparition birth is the least painful method and causes no damage to the body, unlike so called _natural_ childbirth. And really, if wizards and witches have been doing it this way for thousands of years, what’s so unnatural about it?”

            Harry nodded, all for the painless method. “What about breast feeding?” Harry asked, remembering something Draco once said about the baby having to stay with him, because of breast feeding. It was the reason Draco couldn’t be sent to Azkaban, even if guilty, since the baby would need to be fed.

            “If you haven’t noticed, my body has started changing. I will be able to nurse.”

            Harry had seen the change in Draco, but it was slight. Yes there was now something where before there was nothing, but Harry didn’t think Draco had enough to fill an A cup; it was maybe enough to fill a training bra. Given that the small swells were to feed and nourish their little princess, Harry thought it was bloody amazing. He thought he preferred Draco’s pre-pregnancy body, when Draco’s chest and stomach were completely flat, but Draco was still smoking hot the way he was now.

            “Mmm, I love your body,” Harry said huskily. He was trying to drive Draco mad with sexual frustration until his boyfriend consented to some sort of mutual sexual gratification. They were dating now and he was eager for the physical side of their relationship to start.

            Draco took some convincing when it came to sexual matters. Harry had already visited Lucius Malfoy in Ministry custody, gotten Kingsley to drop the case against Draco, and gotten Lucius’ permission to court his son, which in Harry’s opinion deserved at _least_ a hand job in return. But what Harry _really_ wanted was to get Draco’s clothes off; he’d go to almost any lengths to get it. It wasn’t just about sex—Draco couldn’t have sex right now anyway, because he was so far along—it was about seeing his first real live cock and getting a taste of it.

            Harry _needed_ to taste it, but it wasn’t until a few nights later and after saying so, repeatedly, and literally begging for a lick, that Draco had finally agreed.

            Harry’s eyes lit up when Draco finally nodded, his eyes rolling back as Harry groped him on their bed. Harry wasn’t playing fair with the snogging or groping, having teased Draco over his clothes for _hours_ in order to get him worked up enough to give in.

            “You sure?” Harry asked, feeling the corners of his mouth climb so high it would probably hurt in the morning. But even as he asked, he raised his other hand from Draco’s pajama covered arse to pull at the paternity shirt. It was unfortunate he didn’t have more hands, because Draco had a nice, squishy, but firm arse that fit perfectly in Harry’s hand.

            Draco nodded again, letting out a breathy, “Yessss.”

            Harry exposed Draco’s giant pregnant belly and disproportionately small chest, not letting the fact that Draco was lying on his side slow him down. Then there were two elastic waistbands that had to be pushed down before Harry _finally_ got to see Draco’s package. It was gorgeous and fucking _hot_. Draco’s cock was erect, purplish red, and pushing against the underside of his protruding stomach. It was only average in length, but it was thick and straight with a broad head poking out of his foreskin. There was a drop of precum leaking out of the slit and pooling at the lip of skin.

            Harry put one hand on Draco’s hip, to steady himself as his heart practically beat right out of his chest at the sight. He was, after all, a virgin too. He’d gotten to third base with Ginny and he couldn’t go past third base with Draco, but this was still very new for him. This was his first boyfriend, his first glimpse of real live dick, and hopefully his first time giving a blow job.

            Harry reached down to touch it with his other hand, feeling the wetness as he pulled back the foreskin, to reveal a head that was just begging to be kissed. Draco’s head tilted back and he moaned as Harry took him in hand. Harry caught the vibration on Draco’s lips, leaning in for a sensual kiss and he revealed in the feel of soft velvet covering hard steel. Draco’s cock was hot against Harry’s skin and Harry could feel the blood pulsing in the thick vein that ran along the underside.

            Harry had to adjust his own cock as his hard-on pressed uncomfortably against his pants. His urges begged him to take his clothes off and join Draco in naked debauchery. But his mind warned him not to spook Draco, not when he’d finally gotten Draco to agree to this. Draco might not agree again; he’d threatened to not give in until the baby was born often enough that it was a real concern.

            Harry pulled back to take in a ragged breath, pushed one last kiss to Draco’s lower lip, and dropped to his knees. Draco gasped, one hand reaching down for Harry’s shoulder and the other resting on the top of his baby bulge. Harry studied Draco’s engorged flesh, taking in each mouthwatering detail and thinking that this was _so_ much better than porn. If pussy had looked half this good he wouldn’t still be a virgin. He was glad he’d figured out how great cock was before he’d gone through with something he’d regret.

            Draco squirmed with self-consciousness at Harry’s stare. Harry wanted to keep feasting his eyes, but he was going to lose Draco if he didn’t act quickly. He started with a lick to the tip, tasting the salty trail of precum. He flicked his tongue out again, this time getting a taste of Draco’s clean flesh; Draco had bathed right before Harry had started the night’s groping session. The taste was better than he’d expected, so he popped the whole head into his mouth. He moved his tongue along the underside, over the frenulum, where the foreskin connected to the shaft. Then he shifted his head to explore the fleshy ridge that flared out on the top of the head.

            Harry’s cock throbbed, dampening his pants with his own precum. The hand freed up by his mouth drifted down to squeeze at his cock head, to relieve some of the pressure. He might’ve lost his restraint and pulled it out for a wank, if Draco’s hand hadn’t tugged at his arm. He raised his hand to meet Draco’s long fingers, but before he could entwine them, Draco guided their hands to the baby bump. Harry didn’t particularly want to involve their little princess in this, so he was glad to find she wasn’t kicking and was for once asleep; he’d have to get her something as a reward if she stayed asleep.

            Draco’s cock slid further into Harry’s mouth as Harry tried to see how much he could take. He thought it would be difficult to do, but it wasn’t. He was encouraged by the sounds Draco was making and Draco’s other hand, which had found his hair and was tugging gently. It wasn’t long before he was bobbing up and down on the thick cock, flicking his tongue out along the underside as he went. He had most of it in his mouth too, which he was quite proud of.

            The movement started as a slight rocking of the bed, but soon Harry noticed Draco’s hips rocking back and forth, helping the slick cock slide in and out of his mouth. He tried to adjust and keep Draco’s rhythm, but it wasn’t particularly predictable and it was much harder to suck a moving cock. Then Draco’s hips snapped too far back and Harry’s face got squished between Draco’s thighs and belly. He would’ve loved being on the other side of Draco with that pert round buttock arched that far back and he wondered how he could convince Draco to move like that while they were spooning. But as it was, the movement was interfering with his attempt at giving head.

            The fat cock made a popping sound as Harry let it slide from his mouth in order to speak. “Hold still, will you?” he asked, before diving back in and getting another mouth full of hot flesh.

            “Mmmm arse,” Draco mumbled. His rocking decreased, but didn’t stop.

            “What?” Harry had to let the cock go a second time and he’d only gotten a taste of the head that time.

            “My arse. Touch me.” Draco’s hand reached down, guiding Harry’s hand from his hip to his hole.

            “We can’t, not until the baby’s born.” It was so tempting. Harry desperately wanted to throw caution to the wind, his cock aching for it, but he daren’t hurt their daughter.

            “Don’t fuck me, just _touch_ me,” Draco entreated, his hand remained in place, holding Harry’s hand to his hole. When Harry did nothing but look up at him uncertainly, he spoke again. “I can’t cum without my fingers in my arse and I can’t reach it any longer. I swear to Salazar that if you don’t let me cum, I won’t let you cum in me for a year.” He sounded like he meant it too.

            That was a threat Harry dreaded and would do almost anything to avoid. He didn’t know if he was capable of fingering Draco without hurting him. He certainly wasn’t prepared for it, not having bought lube or read up on anal preparation, unlike the week of reading he’d done about giving head. But with the threat of no sex for a year hanging over his head, he rubbed two fingers over the puckered opening, and then began to circle his pointer finger around the rim.

            Draco solved the lube problem, by calling Kreacher and ordering him to retrieve his jar from Malfoy Manor. Harry froze up at the sight of the grisly old elf and tried to cover Draco’s manhood with his hands. But Draco didn’t seem to have a modesty problem around elves and Kreacher was soon gone again. Draco offered Harry the open container and Harry reached two fingers in, pulling out a cold, thick glob.

            There was an angle issue, because Harry found it hard to get his fingers in Draco’s hole properly and keep his mouth on Draco’s cock while Draco was on his side. That problem was solved by Draco turning over onto his back, which was something that had only been possible for the last few days, ever since the baby had dropped. Before the baby had grown so large that she crushed Draco’s lungs when he lied in this position, but now she had descended into the birthing canal, freeing up space for much needed oxygen.

            On his back, Draco spread his legs open, allowing Harry to kneel between them. Harry took the weeping head into his mouth, before pressing his fingers into the lubed anus. He cursed himself for not having experimented with his own arse first, because he had no idea what felt good or more importantly, _how_ to make Draco feel good. But Draco was still rocking and encouraging Harry’s every movement and moaning things like, “More,” “Deeper,” “Right there,” and, “Don’t stop.”

            Harry didn’t stop. He kept right on fingering Draco deeply with two fingers and sucking dick. He had just the head in his mouth now and was sucking like a lollipop, trying to keep those delicious sounds coming out of Draco’s mouth. And then Draco shuddered, the muscles in his whole body contracting, before he came. The hot, salty fluid started gushing forth faster than Harry could swallow. Harry kept his mouth in place, swallowing what he could and letting the extra drip out the corner of his mouth.

            It had been months since Draco could reach his arse and consequently, months since he’d last cum. And Harry had somehow managed to find his prostate, while giving head, so Draco kept right on cumming.

            Watching Draco cum was the hottest thing Harry had ever seen. He was extremely aroused just from watching the look of pure ecstasy on Draco’s face, listening to the sound of Draco’s moans, and then there was the feel; the hot slick canal bearing down on his fingers, the cock on his tongue, the cum dripping out the side of his mouth. The cum wasn’t particularly tasty, but it was hot and Draco’s and filling his stomach with each swallow. Draco seemed thoroughly distracted and Harry’s cock was throbbing so hard it was painful, so he decided to risk it; he pulled out his own cock with his free hand. He was so excited that he came with three short strokes and had tucked himself away again before Draco opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The baby will come next chapter and I need some inspiration to write it, especially because it will be the last chapter. First off, what do you want the baby to look like, in terms of hair color (black, red, or blond) and eye color (green, blue, or grey)? Secondly, is there any part of the birth you’re particularly looking forward to? Or any post-birth event you’d like to see? Is anyone interested in seeing the apparition birth in detail, or not? What do you think of the whole apparition birth concept? I was trying to come up with something new, but if it sounds stupid, it might be better to gloss over the birthing process itself. Thirdly, any and all suggestions will be taken into consideration.   
> You readers have really helped me shape this story into a much better work than it would’ve been otherwise. You guys are awesome! I’d like to thank all of you who contributed feedback :)   
> Please Review!


	30. Chapter30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The votes are in and the tally stands thusly:  
> Hair- Blond: 6.83 Black: 6.5 Red: 2.66  
> Eyes- Green: 6.16 Blue: 1.3 Grey: 6.13  
> It was VERY close, but blond hair and green eyes won!

Harry had gotten all of eight hours sleep in the last forty-eight hours, which was seven more than Draco had gotten. Sleep deprived and emotionally exhausted in the early hours of Friday, January ninth, Harry sat staring in awe of the miraculous little being in his arms. The newest Potter was so incredibly tiny at eight pounds, one ounce, that he couldn’t help but be petrified with fear of dropping her. But she barely moved, even when awake, and he was using all of his remaining concentration to make sure she didn’t fall.   
Harry had her body cradled between his knees, an arm on each side of her body, just in case. His legs were bent up, propped up on the footrest of the reclining chair that was on the other side of their private room from where Draco lay sleeping. He could’ve chickened out and left her sleeping in the hospital basinet, but he was Harry Potter; he had to be brave. What he really wanted to do was to hold his baby and memorize every bit of her and that was what he was doing. What if a Death Eater tried to kidnap her again? One might try to slip in as an orderly and switch her for another baby. He was going to be able to recognize her and spot an imposter. And there was absolutely no way Ipheion was going to be taken on his watch.   
Draco had chosen the name Ipheion Linnaea Potter. Ipheion was for the starflower plants Neville had given them at the baby shower. Harry had yet to see the blooms outside of the pages of a book, but Draco assured him that they were just as elegant in real life as the white, star-shaped flowers were in ink. Linnaea was also the name of a flowering plant, this one with dainty pinkish purple bell-shaped flowers. Harry liked the flower, because of its look and name, both of which reminded him of the Stargazer lily, from which his mother was named. Draco had picked it to be reminiscent of the lily, without actually being a lily.  
Harry loved that Draco had chosen to honor both his friend and his mother with their little girl’s name. He hadn’t expected it, but he was learning that his boyfriend could be sweet and thoughtful. The name was a mouthful, but prior to the birth Harry had sat with Draco in his arms practicing it. Draco broke down each syllable for him, making it sound like If-E-on, E-on for short. Harry tried to mimic the graceful way Draco said it, dragging out the last syllable, like in the first half of the name Ana.   
Looking at his little girl now, Harry thought she looked like an Ana. If he could pick her name, she’d be Lilyana Potter. Draco hated that name and said that it sounded so plebian. Even though they were getting along splendidly these days, they were still two very different people raised in houses that were a world apart. Draco cared about things like class, manners, fashion, politics, and dinner parties, while Harry found them interminably boring. They were opposites in a lot of ways, but the thing about opposites is that they attract; Harry and Draco have always attracted each other’s attention and now that they were together, it was like two halves of a whole. Draco would teach their daughter manners and how to dance and dress with flair, while Harry would teach her courage and love for adventure.  
“Eion,” Harry whispered reverently, looking at his daughter as she stirred from her sleep. She was yawning, jutting out her little cloth covered fist and then pulling it back in. All four limbs were curled in tightly to her chest, in the typical fetal position. She was dressed in a simple hospital white undershirt with flaps that bent over to cover the hands and wrapped in a hospital blanket. “Eiona is what you are, not an Eion. I’ll have to talk to your father about that, but you have to back me up. Together we’ll convince him.”  
Harry hadn’t planned on combining Draco’s nickname for their daughter with his own, but it just popped into his head and he knew it was right. He would have to come up with the right way to convince Draco. Draco may dislike Ana, but the Eion already ended with the first syllable and the last syllable was the same as the last syllable of Linnaea, the middle name Draco had chosen. Maybe that was the way to go about this; tell Draco he was barrowing the ah from Linnaea, to make Eion classier. Draco seemed to be of the opinion the classier the better.  
While Harry was contemplating nicknames, his daughter’s eyes fluttered opened. He looked down into the translucent blue eyes as they glanced back at him, if only for a second. Her eyes were an odd shade only seen in babies. Healer Smith had explained that her eyes would darken with time, either to Cissy’s solid blue or Harry’s green, but they were too blue to be Draco’s grey. There was a hint of translucent green in a sliver just around her irises that hadn’t been there yesterday, her eyes already changing.  
It was hard to believe that their daughter was an entire day old. Her face was still puffy and swollen from spending the last nine months in a waterlogged environment, belying how new to this world she was. Underneath the swelling were the graceful features of a Malfoy: the cheeks, chin, shape of the eyes, and perfectly arched tiny little eyebrows. As they’d seen from the magical ultrasound, the brow was from the Evans family and was the one feature that without a doubt came from Harry’s mother. The nose was still the unfamiliar button-shape, but Molly had assured him that all babies’ noses come out looking like that and that it’d change later, as she grows.  
The big surprise for Harry was that he could recognize some of his own features in his daughter’s face, now that she was up close and displayed in so much more detail than in the spelled-mirror. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Ipheion had Harry’s ears. They were little ears, but the shape was all Potter, Black if you asked Cissy; James Potter’s mother was a Black. Although Cissy and her sisters didn’t possess the trait, she insisted that it’d come from the Blacks.   
Then there were her lips; miniature, but full and plump and a darker shade of pink, like Harry’s. They were a scaled down version of his own lips. He liked to watch them, fascinated. He leaned down, bringing his lips to hers, and placing a gentle kiss to the pint-sized structure. She responded with a light smacking sound, as her reflex to suckle kicked in. Her little pink tongue slipped between those lips, giving her the appearance of sucking on her own tongue.  
“None of that now Princess; your father will be very cross with me if he has to wake up to feed you again. He just got to sleep and I wasn’t supposed to wake you,” Harry told her softly.  
Draco hadn’t slept in two days. Even after the birth, he was in too much pain to sleep. Regular pain potions weren’t safe to take while breast-feeding and the safe stuff just didn’t cut it. When it wasn’t the pain keeping him up, it was the visitors, healers, nurses, and hospital staff coming in and out of the room. They said they were going to leave him alone so that he could get some rest and even put a silencing charm on the door so he wouldn’t hear their racket, but they kept coming in during the night, wanting something.   
First it was just a few tests that needed to be run on the baby. Then it was to make sure the internal bleeding from the detachment of the placenta had stopped and to vanish the excess blood in Draco’s uterus. The sheets were soiled and had to be changed, along with his hospital gown and underthings. They dropped off more nappies, undershirts, and blankets, for the baby and picked up the pile of soiled laundry. In short doing all of the things they really should have done during visiting hours, when he wasn’t trying to sleep.  
In addition to all of that, there was the constant care little Ipheion needed and a stream of visitors and well-wishers. She was on a two hour, if they were lucky, cycle of endless nursing, nappy changing, spitting up, and sleeping. During the hospital’s visiting hours, their closest friends and relatives stopped by. Harry visited with his Weasley relatives quickly and didn’t even authorize any friends, besides Hermione and Molly in, while Draco had attempted to allow all of his relatives in. Ipheion slept through most of it. She slept a lot, but never for more than an hour at a time. By the time Draco was just dosing off, she was up again. It had gotten so bad that shortly after midnight, he’d started crying from exhaustion and woke Harry up. That was why Harry was watching their daughter, trying to keep her quiet, so that Draco could sleep. He’d just had a solid four hours and he wished he could give Draco as much.  
An apparition birth was supposed to be so much better than a natural birth, in terms of the amount of pain, bodily damage, and recovery time, but in truth it had been a twenty hour ordeal. They’d rushed to St. Mungo’s as soon as the contractions started, only to be told to wait while the healers checked over Draco and the unborn baby. Healer Smith had arrived right away, having been fetched by Cissy, but the same could not be said for their apparition birth specialist.  
It turned out that their specialist, who Draco had met with a few times at Smith’s clinic, was on vacation. It was his due date exactly the day they came in, but it was also the winter holiday season. Harry was pissed beyond belief when he found out that their specialist, who had agreed to help them deliver the baby, had arranged his vacation to include their due date. Draco’s only response to that news was to give Harry a look that said, “I thought you said that guy knows what he’s doing?” and “This is the last time I let you decide anything important.” In hindsight, Harry realized that he should have asked the specialist when his planned vacation days were, before hiring the guy.  
There was an apparition specialist on call at the hospital, so they would have to go with her, even though they’d never met her before. Kaelene McDaniels at least had one mark in favor of her competency just for being there ready to go. That she’d married the Scottish mudblood McDaniels, was a Weasley by birth and Ron’s cousin, and had the tact to prove it, were marks against her. Harry wouldn’t have minded if it was him giving birth, but it wasn’t. It was Draco and Draco wasn’t comfortable with her and didn’t trust her.   
Trust was important when it came to an apparition birth, especially with someone out of practice in apparition. Clothing got in the way and made the process harder, so first time births were always attempted naked. Being naked in front of someone you don’t know is uncomfortable and makes it harder to concentrate. Concentration was absolutely critical with any apparition birth, in order to avoid splinching, even with witches and wizards who were experts at apparition. By no means was Draco an expert at apparition.  
Draco had been on house arrest since the beginning stages of his pregnancy, although that had recently been removed. Before two weeks ago, he hadn’t apparated in seven months, other than as a side along and that didn’t count. He hadn’t even been that proficient at apparition before then. He wasn’t old enough to get his license back when Hermione had gotten hers in sixth year, having to stay behind with Harry and Neville. Then there had been his involvement in Dumbledore’s death, which meant that he couldn’t walk into the Ministry and take the test once he was old enough. He’d had to wait until the Death Eaters took over the Ministry to get his license. Shortly after that he’d been sent back to Hogwarts, leaving him almost no time to practice. There’d been a few breaks from school when he’d apparated, but he could count those on one hand. All in all, he was still a novice when it came to apparition.  
Apparition birth was not an activity for novices. In between contractions, which were only minutes apart, Draco was to stand up naked and turn on the spot with his destination, deliberation, and determination in mind. His destination was the exact spot he was already standing, so that Harry, Healer Smith, Madame McDaniels and a pair of nurses could catch him should he fall; they were all standing in a circle surrounding him, with Madame McDaniels directly in front, guiding him. As for the determination, he was very determined that his baby was to come out of him and end up in his arms. The trouble was doing it. What he was to do with the middle D, he didn’t know; he only supposed it was in there because that was how the Ministry taught apparition.  
Like any first time apparition, birth by apparition takes practice and effort. During the first hour of trying, Draco spent all his energy, determination, willpower, and stamina in a constant cycle of turning on the spot and rematerializing right where he was, with the baby still inside him. He hadn’t wanted to take a break, seeing it as a sign of weakness to give up, but eventually he grew too weak to stand. He was hungry, thirsty, and tired, but he couldn’t satisfy any of these needs. The contractions were too painful and too constant to sleep through and they wouldn’t let him eat or drink, for fear that he’d throw up. Well he threw up bile three times during the process anyway, so he didn’t see why he hadn’t been allowed to eat something; at least then the vomit wouldn’t have tasted so bloody awful.  
Harry had fed Draco ice chips, to wet his mouth and prevent him from satisfying his thirst. Draco had rested, and they’d tried again, and again, and again. But he was tired and could only give it two tries before needing to rest again. After that, he needed to rest in between each and every try. He kept begging Harry to get him an actual glass of water, but the nurses and healers kept advising against it; Draco was on the magical equivalent of an IV, so if he was dehydrated, the magic would restore his system.  
After the first two hours, the quality of Draco’s attempts went down, along with the quantity. There was a stretch with two or three half-arsed attempts per hour, after which Healer Smith had insisted that he stop trying for long enough to regain his strength. He hadn’t wanted to, because he was in pain, couldn’t sleep, and wanted to get it over with, which was why it took hours to convince him. But eventually he’d lain there miserable while Harry tried to comfort him with hugs, back massages, foot rubs, and platonic kisses.  
After that there’d been several higher quality attempts that according to Madame McDaniels, had been close, which meant that the baby had joined her magic with Draco’s for the apparition. The joining of the magics was a necessary and critical part of the spell, which gave them hope, but it’d still been hours more. There’d been more resting and more attempts. It’d started to seem like the process was never ending and that they were going to be at it for days, weeks even. It came as a shock when it did end.  
Absolutely exhausted, but unable to rest a moment more, Draco had been helped to stand back up at the side of his bed on a pair of very shaky legs. Harry was on his left side, with an arm wrapped around his back and hooked under his armpit, supporting him. Healer Smith was on his right, doing the same. And then he spun on the spot, disappeared for a second, and reappeared in the same spot, with a little pink slimy wriggling mass in his arms and a puddle of amniotic fluid and placenta dropping to the floor.  
Draco’s knees collapsed and it was only Healer Smith and Harry each reestablishing their hold under his arms and pulling him backwards, onto the bed, that stopped his fall. He was quickly moved into a reclining position in the middle of the bed, the baby in his arms. She was still connected to the placenta that lay on the ground by a long umbilical cord; a condition which Healer Smith was moving to correct with a spell. One nurse was vanishing the mess on the floor and everywhere else it ended up, while the other was vanishing the mess from Draco and covering his naked body with a thin blanket.  
Ipheion hadn’t let out a sound, nor taken a breath, but then Draco moved her to his chest, caressing her little back, and she took in a gasp of air. That first gasp was followed by a coughing fit. The problem with apparition birth is the same as with muggle Cesarean section in that the amniotic fluid isn’t forced out of the lungs during the process. Therefore Healer Smith helped Draco position the baby so that her head was angled down, allowing gravity to pull the fluid from her airways. Healer Smith had also shown them how to pat her back gently, encouraging the efflux of liquid, until she stopped coughing.   
And then finally, finally, their ordeal was over and Draco had their daughter cradled in the crook of his arm. He was lying down, but with his head up to take in the sight. She was beautiful, even then, covered in white bits of some waxy substance, which Healer Smith said was normal. Healer Smith cleaned her with the gentlest of newborn approved cleaning spells, but left that white layer on, saying that it was beneficial for newborn skin. Draco didn’t mind it so much on her body, but he’d expressed a dislike for the stuff being in her hair.  
Ipheion had wild blond hair. It wasn’t the pale blond of Draco and his father, but rather the golden blond of Cissy. In actuality, the hair color had come from Harry’s mother and maternal grandmother. It was the same shade as his Aunt Petunia’s, but he rarely thought about the Dursleys these days and was happy to think that his daughter had nothing in common with those people. He didn’t even mention the fact that golden blond hair ran in his mother’s family to Draco, instead agreeing with his boyfriend that the hair had come from Draco’s mother.  
Her hair was wild, in that it had obviously never been combed and stood up in a tangled mat on the top of her head. There was up to two and a half inches of it and it seemed to naturally fall into a fo-hawk, with the longest hairs all lined up in the middle. The length fell off sharply, so that the hairs on the sides and back were only an inch long. Draco had combed through it with a soft bristled brush, complaining that Harry better not have given their little princess what he termed, “Bloody Savior Hair,” even though it was clear that he already had.   
Cissy had taken the opportunity to invite herself over twice a day to comb any troublesome hairs into position. Molly had popped in with a handy little spell she’d used on Ginny’s hair when she was a baby that automatically combed it and attached a little pink bow on top. Draco had come back with a crack about why wasn’t Hermione volunteering a spell; she must’ve learned hundreds of them by now to cope with her own mane of wild Bloody Savior Hair. None of the spells Hermione used were suitable for a newborn and the baby’s hair wasn’t that bad, so she didn’t have anything to contribute for once. Harry had worried that Draco had offended her, but she wasn’t upset, because she knew what he’d just been through.  
They’d had a lot of visitors yesterday. It seemed like everybody in the wizarding world had converged on St. Mungo’s, to get a glimpse of their little girl. Security had kept the majority of them out, but Harry had authorized a few of them through. Molly, Cissy, and Hermione were their main visitors, with Cissy staying the longest of the three. Ron, Author, George, Bill, Fleur, and even Ginny and Percy had all stopped by to say their congratulations. Harry let them say it in the hallway outside Draco’s room and Cissy brought the baby out for a quick glimpse, so that Draco didn’t have to deal with the lot.   
Dromeda and Teddy had been allowed in, but only for fifteen minutes. Teddy had started to fuss, wanting to be put down to crawl. They couldn’t let Teddy crawl on the hospital floor, so Dromeda had taken him home, promising to visit again soon. Draco’s grandparents, Druella and Cygnus Black, stopped by, but at their age they were already exhausted from getting through the crowd and didn’t stay long. The Smith, Rosier, and Crabbe families, who were Draco’s more distant relatives, all stopped by as well. They were each allowed in to see Draco and the baby, but it was never long before a nurse would come in and usher them all out, insisting that there were too many visitors in the room.  
The rest of the visitors were unwanted. Harry left the room to dismiss Kingsley Shacklebolt and Head Auror Robards himself, without showing his bosses the baby. He left security to dismiss the rest of the people he knew from the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix. All of his friends from Hogwarts were sent away, without a peak at little Ipheion. He’d send them all photos later; Draco had insisted on taking a ton of pictures to send to his father, since Lucius was still in the Ministry holding cells.   
The reporters and lookiloos were steadfastly ignored, although one did break in disguised as an orderly. Healer Smith, who had been standing just outside the door speaking with his son, recognized the reporter and sounded the alarm before the intruder breached the room. Zacharias pinned the reporter down in a headlock before Harry even knew what was happening. Harry would have to send him a thank you card with a photo of the baby. Maybe he’d even officially renounce his earlier statement regarding Smith’s lack of bravery.  
Needless to say, with all that activity going on, in addition to the other issues keeping him up, Draco hadn’t gotten any sleep all day yesterday. Harry was determined to change that and luck seemed to be in his favor, as Eiona closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. If he could keep her that way for another three hours, Draco would be grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All but one person voted for a sequel, so I have decided I will write one! It will be called Blood of the Spouse, Willingly Given. The title signifies that Harry and Draco’s relation has changed; from enemy to spouse and forced to consensual.   
> I honestly thought this chapter was going to be the end of this story. But then I started writing the first chapter of the sequel and realized there is one thing missing: the wedding. I’m not sure how long it will be and it may only be a page, but I’m going to make it the epilogue for this story. I’m also thinking of writing an outtake. Any wedding suggestions? I’m thinking a small wedding.  
> As for the name, I know a lot of you voted for one of my three original names, Lyra, Carina, and Cassy, but I felt the reviewer submitted name Ipheion Linnaea (one reviewer suggested Linnaea and another suggested Eiona as a nickname for Ipheion) fit this baby better. There will be three little girls in my other story Harry Potter and the Malfoy Male Pregnancy curse, so I’ve decided their names will be named Lyra, Cassy, and Carina. I hope to see all of you over there and at the sequel!


	31. Outtake 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve made significant progress on writing the wedding and the first chapter of the sequel. Actually I figured out that the wedding needs to be the first chapter of the sequel, so they’re one in the same and well on their way. But Lucius and Draco play a large role in the sequel, so I want to make sure I have their relationship dynamic right, which is why this outtake focuses on the two of them. It’s long, so I’m going to break it into 3 parts. Hopefully by the time part three is going up, the sequel will be too.  
> This is Draco’s backstory of how he came to know he was gay. He's known a long time, which is why he's so comfortable within his own skin, but at the same time, he’s repressed and has never had a boyfriend.

            Now will you tell us what you got for Christmas, Blaise?” Greg asked, as they walked into their dorm room.

            They’d all gone home for the Holidays and returned today on the train. Everyone had bragged about their gifts, pulling them out to prove what stupendously expensive trinkets their parents had given them. Draco’s had been the best, by far. Blaise had claimed he’d gotten something better from his cousin, only Blaise had refused to show them until they got back to their dorm. Well they were here now, stuffed from the returning feast, and it was time for Blaise to put up or shut up. Who ever heard of one’s cousin giving him a more amazing gift than his parents?

            “Hold your unicorns Goyle, don’t get your frilly panties in a bunch,” Blaise replied mockingly.

            “Yeah, you’re acting like a _girl_ ,” Vince added. He didn’t want to be Blaise’s next target of ridicule, so even though he wanted to know just as badly as Greg, he pretended he didn’t.

            “If you had two brain cells in that teeny little head of yours, you’d shut up Vince,” Draco said. Vince was supposed to be his to order around and back him up. Vince was not supposed to challenge Greg when Greg was backing him up.

            “Will you lot knock it off and quit your bickering? Who really cares what Zabini’s cousin gave him? I’m sure it’s some bit of rare dragon dung,” Theo piped up. He was the quiet one of the bunch, the smart one, and the one who would’ve been made prefect if Lucius Malfoy’s influence hadn’t been taken into consideration. He also had a stinging wit which he unleashed on anyone and everyone, explaining why he didn’t have many friends.

            “I’ll have you know it’s life changing,” Blaise retorted, finally pulling his present out. It was a magazine.

            “Let me see that, I’ll be the judge,” Draco said, snatching the publication.

            It was the racy type of garbage that only slags posed in, not decent witches. On the font cover was an outrageously busty witch, who was attempting, and failing, to cover her nipples with her wand. It was far too much boob to do anything for Draco. He turned the page to see more of the same: big boobs, completely nude witches, weird folds under mounds of neatly trimmed pubes. He didn’t find any of these girls attractive in the least. He wasn’t impressed and was about to say so, when Vince pulled it out of his hands.

            “Give me a look now; you can’t hog it all to yourself,” Vince said, drooling towards the end, now that he was fully taking in the image.

            “Fine, you can have it. I was done with it anyway,” Draco said, before going back to his trunk and putting his things away. His new house elf whose entire life revolved around doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted was a much better gift. Personal elves weren’t allowed at Hogwarts, but he got to use Dusty to his heart’s content whenever he was home. They really needed another elf another to replace Dobby, but thanks to Dusty, he no longer had to keep his own things tidy. None of the other boys in his year had their own elf; elves were expensive and generally served an entire family, so probably none of the other kids in the entire school had their own elf.

            “Be careful with it!” Blaise protested, straightening a page Vince had crinkled. “Our lives for the rest of this school year are going revolve around this magazine.”

            Greg added a grunt of agreement, standing over Vince’s should to get a better look.

            “Does that mean you are willing to share?” Theo asked perceptively.

            “Yes, but only if you all admit that I got the best present. And you have to swear to guard it with your lives and let me play seeker during pickup games.”

            “No, I’m seeker; I’m on the Slytherin house team!” Draco protested indignantly.

            “Then you lot don’t want me to share?” Blaise asked, pulling his magazine away from Vince and Greg.

            “No one said that,” Theo replied, moving to intercept the magazine and get his turn to look properly.

            “Yeah, you can be seeker,” Vince added.

            “Shut it Vince! If I hear one more peep out of you tonight I’m going to hex off all of your toenails. They’ve just grown back, haven’t they?” Draco asked, threatening. Hexing off toenails was extremely painful, but caused no lasting damage and stopped bleeding quickly enough that the victim didn’t have to see Madam Pomfrey.

            “But Draco,” Greg wined.

            “Are you saying you don’t want a turn with my magazine? I’m not asking you to give up your spot on the house team, just during our pickup matches. You can still be the Slytherin team’s seeker,” Blaise wheedled.

            “He can’t logical be saying that,” Theo added.

            “Yeah, no way, right Draco?” Greg asked.

            Vince nodded, keeping quiet for once.

            “No, I’m not saying that. But that stipulation isn’t fair. He’s not asking the rest of you to give up your spots in our pickup games,” Draco retorted.

            “He’s right: you need to make this fair for everyone,” Theo reasoned.

            Additional debate followed and it was eventually agreed that they would all pay Blaise one sickle per month. Draco wouldn’t have to give up his spot for Quidditch and Blaise would share his magazine. Draco didn’t think the magazine was worth a sickle, but he was curious to study it in more detail; maybe there was an attractive girl hidden away in those pages. They drew straws, with Theo passing the straws out. And since Slytherin house was nothing but a bunch of opportunistic cheats, Theo won the right to have the first go. Draco came in last, but he didn’t mind as much as he normally would; Blaise’s rubbish wasn’t worth the bother of the fight.

            From then on they each got a night with the magazine. Sunday Theo had, Monday was Blaise, Tuesday was Vince, Wednesday Greg, Thursday Blaise, Friday Draco, and Saturday Blaise. That was until Gilbert, Greg’s older brother, found out and insisted on being allowed into the rotation. Greg had blabbed to his brother, but Gil had been willing to pay, so Blaise sold Gil his Monday spot. Blaise got more goes with it, since it was his magazine in the first place. All in all, Fridays were probably one of the best days to get the magazine, since they wouldn’t have school the next day, so Draco wasn’t complaining.

            Being a Sunday, Theo quickly confiscated the magazine and locked himself up in their loo for two hours. The rest of them had to use the lavatory in the common room to handle their nightly business, which greatly annoyed Draco. The rest of the week continued like that, with each boy requiring copious amounts of time in the loo. Wednesday wasn’t too bad, because Vince only hogged the loo for five minutes at a time, but Monday with Blaise had been awful; Blaise had later admitted that he’d had multiple goes, but just hadn’t bothered to leave the restroom in between. The boys were looking forward to next week, when Gil would take over Blaise’s Monday spot and then they would only have to deal with Blaise’s bathroom needs twice a week.

            It wasn’t until Friday when the now sacred magazine reached Draco’s hands, or rather his napkin. At breakfast, when he received the soiled bundle of parchment, he grasped it with his napkin, before performing a cleaning charm on it. Then he tucked it away in his backpack and completely forgot about it.

            With each of the other boys, the magazine had been burning a metaphorical hole in their pockets just by being in their possession; they thought about nothing else but that magazine and the moment they got out of afternoon classes, they rushed to the lavatory. Draco didn’t remember he had it when he got out of afternoon classes. After dinner he had Quidditch practice and not once during practice did his thoughts drift to the magazine. It wasn’t until after practice when he went back to his room to shower that he was reminded.

            “Rotten luck mate; Flint scheduling Quidditch practice for your night,” Blaise said.

            “It was nice getting a chance at a proper shower for once though,” Theo retorted.

            “Draco you’re gonna to have a go now, aren’t you?” Greg asked, trying to say that if Draco wasn’t, he wanted to barrow it.

            “Of course he is,” Vince answered.

            “Right,” Draco answered, not wanting to give away the fact that he hadn’t been going to look at the magazine at all. Sure he’d planned on it, in the vague way he planned on ruling the world someday. He retrieved the magazine, before making his way into the loo.

            Draco hadn’t had a proper turn in their lavatory all week, but at least he was a prefect and had access to the prefect’s bath. Still, it was inconvenient, because it was so far away and involved walking chilly corridors while wet. That was not something he enjoyed, especially compared to the sauna like conditions of their own loo. Everyone assumed that because the Slytherin dorms were located in the drafty dungeons that they’d be cold, but they weren’t; they were warm and humid, heated by an underground hot spring. Their water was pumped straight from the source and was divine.

            Needless to say, Draco spent the first hour of his precious time in the loo bathing and relaxing in the giant marble tub. It was a nice tub with a thick snake carved around the lip of it, complete with fangs and a hissing tongue. Draco always liked this tub and he figured it was as good a wanking place as any. When he was done pampering himself and making sure every last spec of dirt was removed from his pristine body, he levitated over Blaise’s magazine.

            The girl on the cover was still an ugly slag, as were the ones on the first few pages. Draco had held out hope that the rest would be better, but they weren’t. It was an entire publication of unattractive big busted witches. Still he took some time to study it, fascinated by the parts between their legs. It wasn’t that looking at those parts turned him on, because it didn’t, not really, but he’d never seen that type of thing before and was curious.

            Eventually Draco grew tired of looking and decided it was time to try wanking. His father had given him the talk, so he knew that wizards were supposed to put their little wizard inside a witch. It went into the vagina, which was something located between a witch’s thighs. He now had pictures of slits and tried to imagine slipping his little wizard inside, but the idea made his stomach roil. He knew from the other boys that stroking one’s little wizard was important for tossing off, so he tried that, with no success.

            In the end Draco had given up without even managing to obtain an erection. He blamed it on the defective magazine, because it couldn’t be his fault. He’d cum before, so he knew there was nothing wrong with him. Not that he’d managed a wank before, but he’d done it in his sleep; he woke up at least once a week with a discharge in his pants. Wet dreams were normal, his father had said, and since he had them regularly, he was perfectly normal too. He’d be able to wank if he had a decent magazine. Besides, he didn’t really want to; he was fine with it happening in his sleep and had better things to do with his waking time than to be obsessed with his little wizard.

            At breakfast the next morning, Draco handed the magazine over to Blaise. His annoyance with the constant occupation of the loo was still a regular occurrence, but other than that, thoughts of the magazine didn’t cross his mind. It seemed to be all the other boys in his dorm could talk about, but not him. When their turns came again, they were just as obsessed with it. When his turn came again, he took it into the loo and ignored it while he bathed. Later he gave it one more look, just to confirm it was as awful as he’d remembered. It was, so he’d tucked it away and moved on. Why the other boys weren’t doing the same, he couldn’t fathom.

            When the next month’s sickle was due, Draco paid up and he continued to take the magazine to the loo when it was his day. He didn’t actually have a use for it, but he didn’t want everyone to think he was different or make fun of him. At first he’d been so sure it was the magazine, but now he was starting to worry that it was him. They couldn’t all be wrong, could they? And Gil had shared the magazine around with all of his friends, who all agreed that it was amazing; all those sixth year boys couldn’t be wrong, could they?

            Then one Friday afternoon, before dinner, Vince asked, “Would it be alright if I barrowed the magazine while you’re at Quidditch practice?”

            Draco couldn’t just hand over the useless pile of parchment, so he traded Vince for a pair of earrings that Vince had stolen from another student. They were nice earrings and he needed a present for his mother for her birthday.

            Draco asked for the magazine back after he got out of practice and a new pattern was established, with Vince barrowing the magazine from him every week, in exchange for whatever trinket or a bit of physical labor the boy had to offer. Vince was good about returning it, even when Draco forgot, at first, but the last Friday of the month he forgot. Draco hadn’t remember the thing until Blaise asked for it Saturday morning; Draco was embarrassed to admit he leant it to Vince and to have to ask for it back from Vince in front of the other boys. Luckily Vince was too invested in their little arrangement to rat Draco out and was too stupid to realize he had something to use on Draco, so he simply handed it over and thanked Draco for letting him barrow it last night. Greg had asked if Vince had barrowed it after the rest of them had gone to bed and Draco had run with it. Vince was too stupid to know what was going on, but he knew when his Friday access to the magazine would be negatively affected by not agreeing with Draco, so he agreed and kept his trap shut otherwise.

            The third month Draco paid too, just to fit in, but he was growing absolutely sick of the whole charade. Sometimes he had fantasies of burning the thing, just to break the spell all of the boys seemed to be under. But then he knew they’d never forgive him. They’d probably turn him into an outcast, because there would be no way to hide his wanking problem, or wankless problem, once he did something that drastic. Instead when it was his turn, he now let Vince have the magazine during Quidditch and Greg after classes. Greg was passably at the practical side of Herbology, so in return for the magazine time, he was now growing Draco’s term project for him Soon Draco would be giving the magazine over to Theo when he was taking a bath or handing it straight back to Blaise after getting it from Greg.

            By April, Draco had other expenses to think about. Summer was coming up and his parents wanted him to start paying all the costs for his elf. He hadn’t been using Dusty while at school, so his parents had been putting the elf to work and taking care of the expenses. But they got him the thing to teach him responsibility, so over the summer, it was his job to take care of Dusty out of his allowance. Lodging for an elf is a box in a storeroom by the kitchens, which they already had. Elves eat bugs, crumbs, and left over scraps, meaning that they can practically feed themselves. That left elf shots, so that the thing didn’t get sick and spread nasty diseases, which Draco was to pay for. It wasn’t costly, only a handful of sickles, but still it was a handful of sickles he needed to come up with out of his allowance. He was two sickles short and he didn’t want to dip into any of his usual indulgences. The only extraneous expense he wouldn’t mind cutting was the stupid magazine.

            Blaise was stunned when Draco informed him that he was not going to pay for time with the magazine that month, but there were plenty of boys clamoring to get a shot with it. Blaise held an auction and received an entire galleon from Desmond Hancock, a fourth year, for it. After that Blaise threatened to raise his rate to a galleon per person, but Theo pointed out that they had signed a contract, locking them into the lower rate for the duration of the year. That wasn’t a big deal, because Blaise still had two days a week with his magazine and he decided to sell off the morning of those days to older students with free periods. All in all, he was making a nice profit and would have more than enough to buy more magazines over the summer.

            Greg and Vince were more upset over Draco’s loss of magazine time than Draco was. Those two had been the ones actually using the magazine on Fridays and now they were down to just their own days. They shared their misery and eventually Vince figured out that Draco had been sharing his time with Greg too. Anyone else would have figured it out immediately what with Greg saying as much, but Vince was slower than most wizards. Greg was even slower and couldn’t see what the big deal was, even after Vince pointed out that Draco had been spending less than an hour a week with his magazine, tops.

            Vince found that fact highly disturbing and took the issue to Theo, who had above average mental capabilities. Theo hadn’t known that Greg and Vince were taking the magazine for two hours each and every week during Draco’s time, but he did have one more piece of the puzzle: Draco frequently forgot the magazine on his bed Friday nights when he went to the lavatory. Therefore, in all likelihood, Draco didn’t even wank with the magazine when he had it.

            There was a potential money making opportunity and Theo was smart and cunning enough to recognize it when he saw it. Everyone knew that Lucius Malfoy paid informants for personal information regarding Draco. It wasn’t malicious; Lucius and Cissy were just that type of overly involved parent who micromanaged every moment of their son’s life, in an effort to make his life better. They wanted to be the first to know what the gossip mill was saying, so that they could take immediate measures to rectify the problem. And to ensure that they were kept in the loop, they had a standard offer on the table to pay Draco’s friends for information or gossip.

            Theo waited until he found himself alone with Draco in their dorm one Saturday morning. “Where are Crabbe and Goyle?” he asked.

            “They said they were heading to the kitchens to steal cakes from the house elves. They’re hoping to impress Milli and Tracey by sharing them with the girls. From there they will predictably chicken out and utterly fail to ask them on dates,” Draco replied.

            “And Blaise?” Theo asked.

            “In the common room, listening to the sixth and seventh years talk about sex. Filthy pervert, that one.”

            With the other three boys preoccupied, Theo would likely have enough time to wheedle some information out of Draco. Thus he went forward with his plan. “Draco, can I talk to you about something?”

            “That depends; I may have to charge you for my advice.” Coming from Draco, that was a yes.

            Theo wasn’t the best actor in Slytherin, but he wasn’t the worst either. He altered his countenance from his usual aloof cockiness to shy apprehension; at least that was what he was going for. “Well…it’s sort of…er…” he stalled, trying to make Draco pry the question out of him. If he seemed reluctant enough, he just might be able to convince Draco to share.

            “Spit it out already Nott; I haven’t got all day, have I?”

            “I’m trying; it’s just hard.”

            “When have you ever had trouble stringing words together to make a sentence? You haven’t suffered a brain injury and turned into Crabbe and Goyle, have you?”

            “No, it’s not that. It’s just, ah…er, the magazine?” Theo made it into a question.

            “What about the bloody magazine? I’ve given up my timeslot, so I can’t share with you. And don’t go offering to share yours with me for a price. I’ve got better things to do with my allowance, like that concert.” Everyone knew Draco’s allowance was generous, but it wasn’t limitless and concerts were expensive.

            “No, it’s not that. Actually, I’m thinking of giving up my timeslot too.” Theo wanted Draco to think they were in the same boat, so that Draco would feel comfortable enough to tell him just what boat that was.

            “You would give up your time with the precious magazine?” Draco asked skeptically.

            “Well, like you said, I’ve got better things to do with my allowance. I would like to go to that concert as well.” When in doubt, throw back the same excuse you’ve already been given.

            “I didn’t know you wanted to go to that.”

            “I do.”

            “More than spending time with your precious magazine?”

            “It’s not that great a magazine.” Draco nodded in agreement, indicating that Theo was on the right track, but didn’t say anything. Theo continued with his lie, “I’ve already had months with it; I’ve practically memorized it.” Yes, he’d practically memorized it, but remembering it wasn’t the same.

            Draco didn’t nod that time, cluing Theo in that he was on the wrong track. That was the most plausible explanation he could come up with, so he backtracked and offered a less plausible explanation. “The witches aren’t even all that pretty.”

            To Theo’s surprise, Draco let out a sound of agreement; it was somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. The witches were bloody gorgeous with those giant boobs that he just wanted to bury his face in and never come out; he couldn’t imagine how Draco might object to that, so he decided to list some of their features. “Their eyes are all flat.” There was no response from Draco. “There are two few blonds.” Nothing. “They don’t move enough.” Again, nothing. “Then there’s their faces.” He didn’t know what could be wrong with their faces, but he was hoping Draco would give him some indication to help him narrow it down. Draco didn’t respond. “Their boobs….” Theo didn’t know how to finish that one, without adding the word “are” and “perfect,” so he left it open for Draco to fill in the blank.

            “Too big,” Draco whispered, thinking that finally he could relate to one of the other boys. He’d been trying to keep quiet and not give his secret away, but he wanted so much to have someone to talk to that he couldn’t help it.

            That admission made Theo’s jaw drop, because it was an oxymoron: there was no such thing as boobs that were too big; the bigger the better. Luckily, Draco was looking down at his hands and didn’t see his slip. He picked his jaw back up and hastened to agree, now that he was getting somewhere. “Yes, far too big. Small is better.” His throat stuck on the lie, but it was such a slight hesitation that he hoped Draco wouldn’t notice.

            “Smaller is classier,” Draco fibbed. He was still unwilling to lay all of his cards out and admit that no breast would be better, so he stuck with repeating what Theo said.

            “Yes, and the magazine just isn’t getting the job done for me anymore.” This was the heart of what he thought was going on with Draco. He waited with baited breath to see if Draco would confirm his suspicions.

            “I thought you were just as in love with it as the others,” Draco replied.

            “Oh no, not anymore. At first yes, but now I don’t even use it when I wank.”

            Draco shrugged his shoulders, indicating indifference to that statement.

            Theo was rather perplexed, because he was so certain he was on the right track. His only hope was that if he kept talking, Draco would give him another clue. “Yeah, I’ve gone back to how I used to wank before the magazine: with my hand and my imagination. I can imagine prettier girls.” That didn’t illicit a response from Draco, so Theo thought there must be a real girl, not an imagined one, that Draco thought about when he did the deed. He decided to mention some of the girls in Slytherin and since Draco didn’t like big boobs, he’d start with the flattest one. “I mean, Daphne is better looking than the girls in the magazine.”

            Daphne had a lean, athletic build. She wasn’t Draco’s type, but she was closer, so he nodded.

            “And her little sister Astoria too,” Theo offered, thinking that Astoria was better looking than her sister. Astoria was a year younger, but not at all athletic. She had a lean, unmuscled body, although her chest was just as flat. But as a second year, there was still the possibility that she’d fill out.

            “Astoria looks like a little girl,” Draco replied. At least Daphne had muscle tone.

            Theo compared the two in his head and once more came up with muscle as the only difference between the two. He decided to go with it. “I like a fit girl.”

            Draco let out a sigh of agreement.

            “All of that muscle tone; the way her muscles move with her body…” Theo was really struggling here, because muscle was not something he at all fantasized about, so he decided to go back to the topic of wanking. “I can really wank one out to images of her.” To his surprise, Draco shrugged. He’d been so sure he was onto something that he didn’t know where he could’ve gone wrong. “Well then what _do_ you wank to?”

            Somehow Theo had stumbled onto the crux of the matter, because Draco had never wanked before. He’d tried a few times, but doing so with the magazine had been a total flop. Before he’d tried without thinking of anything in particular and had more success, meaning that he’d gotten hard and felt good. But wanking was hard work and his wrists always hurt before anything ever happened. He knew something was supposed to happen, but he never got the feeling that he was close to making it happen. He’d tried switching hands, but when both of his wrists hurt, he gave up.

            “You do like to wank, don’t you?” Theo asked in disbelief, forgetting that he was supposed to be agreeing with everything Draco said.

            Something about Theo’s tone made Draco realized that he’d revealed too much already. “That’s none of your business, you pervert. I have no plans of sharing my fist technique with you or anything else of that nature.”

            “I wasn’t asking that! I just wanted to compare notes on girls,” Theo protested. “Pansy is hot, isn’t she?” He thought Pansy was hot, but then she had reasonably sized breasts, so maybe she was the wrong girl to lead with.

            “Speaking of Pansy, I just remembered that she, Milli, and I agreed to meet up before lunch,” Draco said, grabbing his backpack and heading out the door. It wasn’t true, but he was reasonably certain they’d be up to playing pranks on mudbloods.

            Theo was left with his mouth hanging open and an unbelievable notion that Draco Malfoy didn’t like wanking. He sat down on his bed, going over the conversation again, pulling out the clues and re-analyzing them. No matter how long he sat there, the conclusion was the same. Thus he pulled out a quill and parchment and got to work writing Lucius Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we haven’t seen Lucius yet; he’s up next. But please let me know what you think of Draco. He was snarkier back then; I hope I got him right. He’ll need to be snarky again in the sequel when Harry pisses him off.


	32. Outtake 2

            For the rest of term Draco did his best to avoid Theo and nothing further came of Draco’s little slip up. When Theo did corner him and bring the subject up, he changed it with a bit of biting wit or left, refusing to talk about witches, wanking, or sex. The other boys were just as sex crazed as Theo, so that meant that Draco started spending a lot more time with the girls in their year. Pansy, Milli, and Daphne were quick to include him, although Tracey and Sophie tended to bugger off whenever he came around; Tracey and Sophie were both halfbloods, so he didn’t mind being shot of them anyway.

            Then the term ended and Draco returned to the Manor for yet another summer. This one was looking to be the best ever, with their usual family vacation in Maidstone, a concert, his own private elf, and the Quidditch World Cup to finish it off. There would be no magazines, no sex crazed boys, and no embarrassing discussions on wanking…at least that was what Draco thought until his father proved otherwise.

            It was the first Monday morning of the summer and Narcissa Malfoy had gone to tea with the other stuffy pureblood women. Lucius Malfoy typically went to work out of the house or locked himself in his office, with orders not to be disturbed. Draco had falsely assumed that meant he had the entire morning to himself to do whatever he wanted. He slept in, ate a breakfast composed of far too much simple sugar to be healthy, and went back to his room to dress for the day, employing his elf to do every single little thing, like fetch his socks.

            Vince and Greg were within flying distance, while Theo and Blaise could be reached by floo, not that Draco wanted to see any of them; he was sick of them. There were a number of other potential playmates in Wiltshire and the surrounding areas. Top on his list was his cousin Zacharias Smith, who lived in Smith Manor, just on the other side of the forest from Malfoy Manor. Zac was a Hufflepuff and not privileged with information regarding Blaise’s bloody magazine. Therefore Zac was the perfect potential partner for a morning one on one game of Quidditch. Maybe they could get a few of the other boys from the village and Zac’s friend Adney Hopkirk to join. Hopkirk was the other pureblood Hufflepuff in their year and although he didn’t live nearby, he could floo in.

            Lucius had other things on his mind today besides work and had taken the day off to talk to Draco. He knocked on Draco’s door and asked, “Draco, may I come in?”

            “Just a minute!” Draco called, pulling on an old set of robes he used for Quidditch practice. He made himself decent and sent away Dusty, before allowing his father in.

            Lucius sat down on the edge of Draco’s bed and said the words all children fear, “We need to talk, Draco.” Lucius patted the bed beside him, indicating that Draco should sit down. He gave nothing away with his usual strict dementor. He was usually a reasonable parent, but he had outrageous standards when it came to grades and maintaining appearances; there were any number of things this could be about.

            Draco swallowed subconsciously and wondered what he’d done wrong. His end of the year grades weren’t back yet, but maybe his midterm grades had been atrociously poor…he’d gotten an acceptable in History of Magic again, so this could be about that. Or maybe the elves had told his father how much syrup he’d used at breakfast… Or maybe it was that he’d had Dusty cut his pancakes for him…Or there was some other way he’d disappointed his father and shamed their family name. It couldn’t be that he’d called Professor Sprout a fat lump of lard after the leaving feast, because his father didn’t care for that professor either.

            “Come now, Draco, you’re not in trouble,” Lucius said, patting the bedspread next to him again in his best attempt at not sounding stern. It was an elegant black bedspread that had only in the last year replaced Draco’s childhood dragon one.

            Draco nodded and sat, looking down at his clasped hands, without saying a word. He still feared he was in trouble and the behavior was engrained in him since early childhood. To everyone else in the world, he was to act superior, but with his father, he was to obey.

            “I want to talk to you about something that happened at school,” Lucius began, pausing to see if Draco would volunteer any information. Draco didn’t. “Regarding a magazine.”

            Draco began to panic thinking about what his father would say. He didn’t know if he was in trouble for viewing smut that was unbecoming of a Malfoy or for not being the one in charge of the magazine. Lucius had seemed rather okay with Draco exploring his burgeoning sexuality during their last chat on the matter. A wizard has needs and those needs must be taken in hand, Lucius had said stoically. His father had also given him way too much detail regarding the intricacies of sex, making Draco wish he was one of those children whose parents didn’t care. Blaise was lucky: his father was dead and his mother was too embarrassed to broach the subject, leaving it instead to his older male cousin. Draco didn’t wish his own father dead, but he wished this conversation was not about to happen.

            “Is there something you wish to tell me?” Lucius asked pointedly, watching Draco fidget.

            “I don’t know what I was supposed to have done. I tried to stay out of the perverted affair, but you also told me to fit in. ‘In order to lead, your subjects have to think you are one of them,’” Draco quoted his father’s own words. When in doubt, quote your father.

            “Yes, that is true. I did not see the magazine myself. Were the witches mudbloods, son?” Lucius asked. Draco shook his head. “Were there graphic images of sex?” Lucius had been told there were only tasteful images of naked witches, but maybe the Nott boy had left the worst of it out.

            “No…” Draco replied, dragging out the syllable.

            “Would you like a proper magazine with graphic images of sex?”

            “No!” Draco exclaimed, panicking.

            “Oh, because it’d be alright if you did. A Malfoy must be ahead of the pack in all things. I don’t want you falling behind son or being dependent on another boy.” And if Lucius provided it, he could ensure the witches were all purebloods.

            Draco looked at his father as if Lucius had too heads and had just admitted to an affair with a muggle. He’d rather Lucius had eaten his new elf for supper and served it to him in his soup.

            “Draco, tell me what was so offensive about this magazine. Unless you tell me, I won’t know.”

            Draco covered his ears in a very childish manner, trying to block his father’s words out. All he wanted to do was go for a fly, have a bit of a Quidditch match with the neighborhood boys, order his elf around, and enjoy his summer. Why did his father have to bring this up? He’d been so looking forward to leaving the issue of the magazine behind at school.

            Lucius gently pulled on Draco’s hands, guiding them back down to a more appropriate position in Draco’s lap. “Son, you are not a child anymore and you must act accordingly. Now your friends have told me that the witches in the magazine were too busty for your taste and that you prefer lean, athletic girls. Is this true?”

            Draco nodded.

            “Would you like a magazine with such witches? They are all purebloods, I assure you.” Lucius summoned just such a magazine, having already purchased a tasteful publication for his son.

            Draco took the magazine and looked at the picture of the naked witch on the cover. He had to, even though he felt like squeezing his eyes shut and refusing to look; he’d just been chastised for being childish, so there was likely to be a punishment in store if he behaved like that again this quickly. He didn’t want to disappoint his father, so he tried to remain calm and act like his perverted friends. If he had a pillow under his robes, food in his mouth, and a pasty in his hand, he could do a pretty good impersonation of Vince stuffing his face; now to see if he could pull off Vince looking at porn.

            Her chest was flatter, although she still had a distinct pair of boobs. Her body was lean and toned, but she was still too curvy and had an unsightly slit below her pubic mound. This magazine was better, although it still wasn’t right, but Draco wasn’t willing to tell his father that. Instead he said, “Thank you Father.”

            “You are welcome my son. There is one more matter I wish to discuss with you.”

            “Of course there is,” Draco groaned, his hopes for a speedy end to this interminable conversation dashed.

            “Yes, there is. Your friend indicated that either you have been having trouble wanking or do not enjoy it.  If it not pleasant, then you must not be doing it right.” Somehow Lucius managed to sound condescending, even when discussing masturbation. “I could arrange for someone closer to your age to come over and give you a few pointers. Steven Brown’s daughter Baleigh has some experience. Mr. Brown has expressed interest in the pairing and we could arrange for a date.”

            Lucius had hopes of Draco turning into a much sought after ladies’ man. He’d arrange dates with every young pureblood witch there was if Draco would let him. Yes, he wanted a marriage eventually, but it would be good for Draco’s reputation if he sowed his wild oats first.

            Draco shot up off of the bed and put as much distance as possible between himself and his father, the magazine falling to the ground in the process. He didn’t mean to, but a childish string of, “No, oh no, please no, no, no, no,” left his mouth. Baleigh Brown was _not_ his type and he was not about to agree to a date arranged by his father.

            “Calm down Draco,” Lucius ordered sternly. “It doesn’t have to be her and I do not plan on forcing an arranged marriage on you. I am only offering to help break the ice. If there is someone else you fancy, say the Greengrass girl, I could arrange a date with her parents.”

            “No.”

            “Is there someone else you fancy?”

            “No, I don’t fancy anyone. I’m barely fourteen.” An automatic sneer flashed across Draco’s face, but it was his father he was talking to, so he smoothed out his features.

            “When you are ready, come to me. I have a few suggestions, although I am sure you can arrange your own dates.”

            Draco nodded eagerly.

            “Now we can finish off this conversation in a few moments if you’ll tell me what specifically is the problem you are facing with regards to masturbation,” Lucius stated boldly.

            Draco groaned loudly, barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes with his arm. He hoped his father would just go away without having the rest of this conversation. This was child torture; the Ministry had to have a law forbidding parents from asking their children about this.

            “Draco, I am waiting,” Lucius prodded. “I promise you I will not be upset, no matter what you tell me.” It was hard to believe him, even when he promised.

            “It’s nothing! I just don’t like to do it as much as the other boys. Just because I’m not a brainless monkey yanking on myself every five minutes doesn’t mean I’m the one with the problem,” Draco fibbed.

            “Thank you for telling me son. If you really do not have an issue, I will go now.”

            “I don’t.”

            Lucius nodded and said, “Have a look at that magazine,” and _finally_ left the room.

            Draco slammed the door closed behind his father, locking the door with every spell he knew. He called for Dusty and ordered the elf to seal the door. Then he pulled a book on locking charms from his bookshelf and flipped through the pages, looking for easy locking spells to attempt for the first time. His broom lay forgotten on the floor as he immersed himself in the art of locking charms.

 

* * *

 

            The next evening, after supper, Lucius stopped by Draco’s room for a chat. He started with a lecture on Draco’s poor grades and how anything lower than an Exceeds expectations was not acceptable in any subject. He also expected a higher ratio of Outstandings to Exceeds expectations and to see that that was accomplished, he expected Draco to spend extra time this summer studying. That was in addition to the assigned summer homework and the usual extra reading of pureblood literature Lucius always assigned.

            Draco was forced to sit there listening to the lecture and in the end agree. He hoped that the lecture would end quickly if he agreed, but unfortunately his father had one more topic to discuss.

            “Did that magazine get the job done?” Lucius asked.

            Draco blushed scarlet, embarrassed by what his father was asking. In truth he’d forgotten all about it. He’d spent yesterday studying locking charms and ordering his new elf to lick his shoes. There’d been a walk with his mother in the garden with Dusty following behind to hold his glass, an hour of lounging on his bed with a graphic novel about a dark wizard hero, and a ridiculously long bath in which he’d ordered Dusty to hand him each of a hundred different soaps, one at a time. Today he’d spent over at Smith Manor having that impromptu Quidditch game he’d wanted, after ordering Dusty to transfigure a few trees into goal hoops. Afterwards he’d hung out with the other boys all afternoon, giving all of Zac’s friends insulting nicknames, such as, “Pimple face,” and “Boogey Brains”. The magazine lay forgotten in his closet, where Dusty had placed it while cleaning Draco’s room.

            “I need to know if it is wrong, in order to purchase one for you that is right.”

            Draco shook his head, not wanting to answer and too horrified to sneer.

            “You did look at it, didn’t you?”

            “No,” Draco admitted.

            “You may look at it now. I’ll set the house elves to stay away from your room and keep your mother from bothering you tonight,” Lucius offered.

            Draco nodded eager for an excuse to get his father out of his room; he didn’t even bother mentioning that Dusty wasn’t the problem. Lucius left and Draco once again threw every locking spell he knew at his door, which was quite a few more than he’d known yesterday morning. Once he was satisfied that his privacy was secure, he decided he really must have a look at that magazine, so that he’d have something to say to his father.

            It took ten minutes of searching, but he eventually spotted the magazine on a shelf in his closet. He sat down on the bed, taking off his robes and undoing his trousers. He was annoyed that Dusty didn’t appear instantly to see to his trousers and that he’d had to find the magazine himself, but maybe the elves staying away for the moment was for the best.

            Draco scooted back to the headboard in nothing but his pants, with the magazine in hand. He flipped through the pages, looking carefully at each witch. The boobs were all much more reasonably sized, like Pansy’s, but larger than Daphne’s. He’d never seen Daphne naked, but he imagined her chest to be more appealing than what these witches had.

            While Draco studied the witches, he tried to touch himself, attempting to get himself in the mood, though it didn’t seem to be working. The witches weren’t all that pretty and the sound of Lucius’ voice kept ringing in his ears, rendering it impossible to toss one off. Draco couldn’t get hard and eventually gave up. He took a luxurious bath and tried to forget all about his problem.

            The next morning Lucius popped in for a report. Draco brushed his father off with a simple, “Fine,” before hiding his nose in one of his textbooks. If he was doing homework, his father couldn’t bother him. If homework protected him from the bloody topic ever coming up again, he might just spend his summer with his nose in a book.

            Unfortunately luck was not on Draco’s side, despite his best efforts with his schoolwork, because a week later Lucius invited himself back into Draco’s room for another talk.

            “You may bring your magazine with you on vacation, but under no circumstances are you to let your mother see it,” Lucius said. Their vacation to Maidstone was approaching and it was time to pack.

            “Great,” Draco replied, unenthusiastically. The last think he wanted was for a wanking magazine to ruin his vacation. If his father was telling him to hide it from his mother, then it meant she wasn’t as okay with it as his father was. In all likelihood, Lucius hadn’t even told her. But on the plus side, he had Dusty now, so he could just order Dusty to make sure his mother didn’t see it.

            “Draco, is there a problem with the magazine? Would you like a different one?”

            Draco let out a put upon sigh. Trapped into a corner, he was forced to tell a bit of the truth or risk receiving a worse magazine next time. “The breasts are too large. I want to look at girls like Daphne Greengrass, or flatter even.”

            Lucius was taken off guard by that admission. He preferred more breasts himself; Narcissa had a nice rack. But it was not unheard of for men to prefer small chested women and if that was what his son preferred, then he would get it. His son was to have whatever he wanted and the best of everything. “I will find something that meets those specifications,” Lucius said, before turning and leaving.

            Draco thought he was in the clear. His father had left him alone and he had packed for the trip, forgetting all about the bloody magazine and wanking. It wasn’t until several days later when he was settling into his room in their summer cottage for the evening that he realized just how wrong he was.

            “I took the liberty of picking up a few more publications for your perusal, Draco. I thought the problem might be one of race, so I have included a pureblood publication from a tropical region along with one from Spain, along with a local one. It might help if you were to tell me which set of features you prefer when it comes to ethnicity and coloration. I myself prefer blonds,” Lucius said, sounding stuffy despite the topic. He had a stack of three magazines in his hands, all of which were filled with small busted pureblood witches.

            “Dark hair. I like brown and black better,” Draco admitted. Hair color was a benign enough topic, considering, and he decided to run with it.

            “Both the Spanish and tropical publications are filled with darker haired beauties. Here, have a look,” Lucius said handing over all three. “Do you also enjoy the darker skin of the more exotic girls?” He needed to know, so that he could adjust his date suggestions. If he arranged a date with someone of Draco’s liking, his son was bound to agree.

            Draco looked at the magazines and although they were closer to what he wanted, he knew instantly that they still weren’t right. The girl on the cover of the Spanish magazine had almost no tits, short dark hair, and pale skin; she was the closest of the three. “I like this one the best,” he admitted, indicating the Spanish magazine.

            “Then I’ll leave you too it,” Lucius stated, rising to leave. He was hopeful that the problem was solved; Draco just wanted a slightly different witch to look at. We all have our preferences and it wasn’t bad taste unless they were mudbloods.

            When his father left, Draco again locked the door, which was something he was getting fairly good at. He was feeling a bit randy after spending the day sun bathing by the lakeshore, river rafting, and walking along the tide pools in the grotto. There had been a number of fit young witches and wizards there with him, all of which were barely clad in tight swimsuits and swimming trunks. He couldn’t quite put his finger on which of them had caught his eye, but he kept remembering a set of smooth, fit abs. There were plenty of fit witches in the Spanish magazine and he decided to give it a go.

            Given that he was already horny, Draco had no problem forgetting his father and obtaining an erection. He began touching himself, while turning the pages of the magazine, but someone he’d seen today was hotter. He didn’t know who it was, but those abs kept drifting into his mind and he soon closed his eyes, forgetting the magazine. His hand felt good on his shaft, stroking up and down. His heart rate and breathing picked up, but it was only a fraction of the sensation he felt in his sleep. Somehow everything just clicked in his dreams in a way it didn’t when he was awake.

            Draco had been hopeful that this would be the time when he’d finally get it right. He was horny enough that he needed it and the stroking felt good on his dick, but somehow he just couldn’t scratch the itch. His wrist got tired and he switched hands, only for the other wrist to start hurting too. He switched back to the first hand, but he had a low tolerance for pain and his erection was starting to wane. He gave up, took a cold shower and went to sleep.

            That night Draco dreamed of defined abs and the fit bodies he’d seen on the lakeshore. He could never see any recognizable details, so he couldn’t be sure whose bodies’ they’d been. There were long necks, graceful backs, sculpted legs, and abs; nothing as tasteless as those filthy magazines. His cock reacted to the dream instinctively and his release was effortless, in a way he just couldn’t make happen while he was awake. There were no sore wrists and endless stroking. There was only a buildup of erotic images, then an imagined caress down there by a bodiless hand. It had felt bloody brilliant and then he’d exploded in his pajamas. Dusty had vanished it and he’d gone back to sleep.

            The next morning Draco had truthfully admitted to his father that the job had gotten done. He failed to mention that he’d reached completion only in his sleep and his father didn’t ask. He was in a good mood and that carried through to his vacation. There were local kids to hang out with and his cousin Zac and Zac’s friend were flooing over regularly, although he was still avoiding his perverted Slytherin friends. He spent his days enjoying himself in the sun and water, his evenings doing homework, and his nights getting off in his dreams. His father thought the problem was solved and was no longer bothering him.

            Everything was fine and Draco was keen to keep it that way. He started showering in the mornings, to wash off any residual spunk from his body, even though dusty did a pretty good job of it. Dusty would wash his pajama shorts and have them ready to go come bedtime. It was a hot summer, but the issue with shorts was that they didn’t always contain the mess and occasionally his sheets were soiled. Luckily the elves had no problem doing the laundry.

            And then early one morning Lucius let himself into his son’s room while Draco was still asleep. The concert was today and Draco needed to be up, getting ready. It was in Germany, several hours ahead of them. That combined with the fact they needed to retrieve Draco’s friends and catch an early portkey, meant that they had to get a move on.

            Draco had been planning to attend this concert for months, since he was still hanging out with his Slytherin friends. Theo and Blaise had the money to go, while Vince and Greg had wasted their allowances on sweets. Lucius was friends with both Theo’s father and Blaise’s mother, so he’d agreed to pick the boys up for the trip. Draco was secretly dreading seeing them again, especially around his father. Lucius expected him to be the alpha male, even though Theo had always been a lone wolf. But there wouldn’t be much opportunity for talking and Draco could bluff his way through a couple of hours, so he wasn’t too worried about it. If worse came to worse, he’d rely on his standby tactic of berating them to make himself seem superior.

            “Draco, wake up or we’ll miss our portkey. I took the day off work for this concert,” Lucius said, turning on the light.

            Draco turned over, groggily, covering his eyes to block out the light. He barely noticed the unpleasant cold sensation of air hitting moisture on his stomach. Dusty was still a young elf and occasionally lapsed in his duties, especially at night. Last night the elf had simply fallen asleep and not noticed.

            Lucius gasped as he realized what the white substance on his son was. He took a deep breath, calming himself down. He reminded himself that this was normal at Draco’s age. “It looks like you require a shower Draco,” was all he said.

            Draco sat up, opening his eyes. He looked at his father and followed his father’s gaze down his body in horror. His blush was violently red and traveled all of the way down his chest. He stuttered about punishing Dusty in embarrassment, not knowing what else to say. Hearing his name, Dusty arrived, realized his mistake, vanished the mess, apologized profusely, and then left to go iron his hands.

            “It’s nothing a shower and a fresh set of laundry cannot fix Draco,” Lucius said in the least stern voice he had. On the plus side, this absolutely proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that his son was undergoing puberty, which was a very good thing, given his desire for grandchildren.

            Draco pulled up his top sheet to cover his body, determinedly looking everywhere but at his father.

            “Of course this problem should be going away now that you are taking care of things during the day.” Draco’s head was turned, gazing off into space. Lucius tried to follow Draco’s gaze and found absolutely nothing of interest, unless you considered a plain white wall interesting. “You have been taking care of your needs during the day, haven’t you? We’ve gotten the whole magazine issue well sorted?”

            Draco continued to ignore his father, hoping the man would go away, so that he could hide his shame in private.

            Lucius sighed, “We haven’t gotten this sorted, have we?” He paused, waiting for a reply, but didn’t get one. “At this rate the Zabini boy will have you beat. Wallis Parkinson informed me that his daughter is having a date with that boy. By the end of the year, he will have gone through all of the pureblood witches in your year. Are you going to let that happen?”

            Draco had been so determined to keep quiet, but the dam burst and he couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t _want_ to date all the pureblood witches in my year! Let Blaise be the perverted playboy; I’m not like that. I don’t want to stick my dick into any slit that moves.”

            “No?” Lucius asked pointedly.

            “No,” Draco confirmed.

            “Well then I suppose there is some kink missing that the witches in your year are lacking. If you care to share I can find witches who meet your specifications and purchase the specific magazine you require…” Lucius waited for a response, but Draco had gone back to avoiding eye contact. “Or I can just purchase the lot and let you find the appropriate one from a stack of filthy smut…” Then Lucius would learn which magazine Draco preferred and choose dates for his son accordingly.

            Draco nodded, still not looking at his father. He’d have to deal with a pile of smut he didn’t want, but if it would get his father to go away, he would do it. Besides, he could just order Dusty to hide them all away in his closet.

            “Alright then. Get cleaned up and dressed and I will handle this matter,” Lucius said, excusing himself.

            Draco did as he was told, relieved that the awkward conversation had come to an end. He tried to forget all about it and enjoy the concert. Blaise and Theo were there and the music was good, even if in German. His father was chaperoning, playing the role of the cold, but unobtrusive parent for once. And it wasn’t until after the concert was over and they were enjoying some refreshments that his friends brought up the topic of sex.

            “I imagine I’ll have Pansy in my bed by the end of the year,” Blaise boosted. He’d been having a chat with Theo about his upcoming date with Pansy, which Draco was silently enduring.

            “I highly doubt it you tosser. It’ll be your hand and your magazine for you,” Theo retorted.

            “Just you wait and see,” Blaise replied with a suggestive wink. “Speaking of my magazine, hanging in there alright without it Theo? I’ve had my cousin buy me a new one, so I could rent you my old one.”

            “At what price?” Theo asked.

            “Don’t waste your money Theo; there’s no need to give it to dick-for-brains here. I’ve got four I don’t want; you can have one,” Draco offered.

            “What’s the catch?” Theo asked.

            “No catch, other than the price. One galleon and you can have your pick,” Draco replied.

            “Are you crazy? Do you know how much money you can make renting these things out?” Blaise asked. He was most perturbed by the possibility that Draco would erode his business by selling magazines cheaply. Sure a galleon was far more than the things cost in the store, but they were underage and couldn’t buy them in the stores.

            Lucius interrupted then. “Boys, this is not the place to discuss business matters. Draco, you should know better.”

            “Right, would you two prefer to discuss this in the privacy of my office?” Draco was slightly confused, but he knew this was the correct reply to his father’s statement. What he didn’t understand was why his father would be approving of this business venture when he was basically arranging to sell porn to a fourteen year old boy.

            “You haven’t got an office,” Theo retorted.

            “I can use my father’s,” Draco replied.

            “Fine, but we need to talk,” Blaise said.

            With that settled, Lucius led the boys to their portkey, which they took back to the Malfoy’s Cottage in Maidstone. The cottage wasn’t nearly as large as the Manor, with just three rooms in addition to the main living area. There was a bedroom for Draco, another for his parents, and an office for Lucius. Lucius opened the door to his office and allowed Draco to usher the other boys inside. He stayed by the door, both to listen in and to ensure that his son didn’t mess up any of his important paperwork.

            “Now Draco, you can’t just go _selling_ these priceless magazines off. You should rent them, like me. We could go into business together. You have four new magazines and I have the cliental,” Blaise proposed. “We could make a ton of galleons together.”

            “Yes, but I don’t want to get into that sort of business,” Draco replied.

            “Before we go any further, I want to see these magazines. I don’t believe you really have four,” Theo said.

            Blaise seconded that notion. Draco protested, but his friends insisted, so he caved. He called Dusty to retrieve the magazines and showed his friends. They both wanted the first one Lucius had given him and there was an argument between them, which was only broke up by Theo asking Draco another question.

            “How did you get these in the first place?” Theo asked skeptically.

            “My father bought them for me. He said I can have whichever magazine I want.”

            “In that case, sell to me and I’ll pay a galleon a piece,” Blaise offered.

            “Hold on a minute, he already offered to sell to me. I accept your offer Draco. I’ll come back to retrieve the busty one as soon as I pop home to get the money,” Theo said.

            “Not so fast, I’ll double it; two galleons each,” Blaise offered. “I’ll take them all, except for the Spanish one. That chick is just plain ugly.” He didn’t really have that much, but he could get the rest before the end of the summer. His first two magazines were still generating business, even though school was out. He had a dozen boys who he’d already rented to and he was charging double to look at his new magazine.

            “Two galleons going once, going twice…” Draco said with a dramatic pause.

            “Two and a half galleons, but that’s all I got. For the love of our friendship, Draco, I’m only asking you to sell me one,” Theo pleaded.

            “Two and a half galleons, sold to the highest bidder. Don’t worry Blaise, I’ll sell you the rest and I’ll only charge you the two galleons. I could be your supplier, but I don’t want to be involved with your business otherwise,” Draco said.

            “My supplier, as in you can get more?”

            “Whenever I want, whatever I want.” Draco had his trademark smirk in place. Maybe the ordeal he’d suffered through with his father could be turned in his favor.

            “Can you get magazines with giant knockers? Like bigger than my head jugs?” Blaise asked hopefully.

            “I could arrange to acquire one for four galleons. It will be harder to get, mind you, because my father already knows of my aversion to giant breasts. He keeps getting me tasteful garbage with realistic witches,” Draco replied.

            “Fine, four galleons and I’ll take the exotic one as well,” Blaise said, pointing to the magazine he wanted.

            Draco agreed. With the deal settled, Theo and Blaise flooed home, returning the next day with their money.

            Lucius had listened to the conversation in silence. His son arranging to sell smutty magazines was exactly the type of thing that made him proud Draco was his son. Draco was an entrepreneur.

            An order for one of each pureblood smut rag that was published had already been placed, except the series with giant breast, so there would be more magazines coming in. Draco would keep the one he liked the best and sell the rest. Lucius would simply write an owl to modify his purchase to include the busty smut, to aid Draco’s business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? Lucius will play a major role in the sequel, so now is your time to let me know if I’ve got him right.  
> I have the wedding mostly written, I just need to figure out what will happen in the next few chapters of the sequel, to tie it in, so that all of the pieces fit together. Hopefully I will have it up next week :D  
> Please Review!


	33. Outtake 3

            Several days passed without mention of the magazines, leaving Draco free to enjoy his vacation in the sun and get some more homework done. He was the only boy there with his own elf and there was an endless number of things one could do with an elf. He and a few other boys liked to catch bugs and stuff from the river and see if Dusty would eat it. Of course Dusty _had_ to eat it if Draco ordered him to, so for the game to work he had to be very careful in how he worded the command. He liked being the center of attention and having all of the kids clamoring to watch him with his elf.

            It wasn’t until a large parcel wrapped in plain blown paper arrived that Draco’s bubble burst. Lucius hid the parcel from his wife’s view, before slipping it to his son. Only the parcel came with strings attached, “Now son,” Lucius had started, once he and Draco were in the privacy of Draco’s room. “I don’t mind you selling the ones you don’t want and I even ordered the busty one specifically for you to sell, but I must insist that you look through all of them _before_ you sell them. One of these will be your thing. The only way to discover your desires is to look.”

            With that Lucius left and Draco set about his arduous task of looking through page after page of tasteless smut. A lot of these magazines were worse than the previous ones. Some of them featured halfbloods doing racy things, like touching themselves down there. One was even full of witches inserting toys into themselves; Draco gulped when he saw it, before flinging it away in disgust. There was another particularly tacky halfblood one filled with witches tied up in bondage. He ordered Dusty to burn it, rather than sell it to Blaise and have to see it crop up around school. The others were just weird, such as the New Zealand one with witches riding brooms naked and the American one filled with shots of women’s feet and shoes. The French one with lots of leg shots wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. The Canadian one seemed impractical, with all of the girls out in the snow dressed in only furs that failed to conceal anything; Draco felt sorry for those girls and hoped they’d at least been allowed warming charms, especially the one making the snow angel.

            Draco was beginning to think that none of the magazines were going to be his cup of tea. He was looking through them for the sake of doing as his father had told him, because Blaise would pay good money for this trash. And then he turned to the next one in the stack and jumped in surprise. He almost accidentally flung the magazine out of his grip in excitement, but then he pulled it closer. He took it to the bed to examine, his cock already hardening in his pants.

            This magazine was completely different from the rest in all of the right ways. The naked chest had absolutely no horrible breasts at all; instead there were a pair of muscular pecks. The torso sported chiseled abs and the biceps on the arms were bulging; the cock in between the legs was bulging too. This was a gay publication called Poufy PureBlood Pounces, the Workout Addition. The man on the cover was lifting a weight with one hand and had his wand in the other. He was young, but several years older than Draco; there was a note on the bottom of the back cover proclaiming that everyone in the magazine was eighteen or older, so he was likely barely legal. He was fit and hot, with short brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes.

            Draco’s heart was racing, his breath coming in short pants, and his dick was throbbing. He made short work of his clothes and began to stroke himself in earnest, still staring at the picture. It felt good, much better than before, but not quite as good as when he was dreaming. He’d been looking at the same picture on the cover for at least five minutes and he decided it was time to turn the page, revealing a two page spread of shots of the same naked man on the cover. It was very good wanking fodder.

            At first Draco had hoped that this would be the time when it would happen and he would cum, but then his wrist started to ache. He switched wrists and got through another six pages of naked men with hard dicks, but then that wrist started to hurt too. He switched back to the first hand, but it still hurt and his dick started to wilt. Finally he stopped stroking himself, instead concentrating on the images. There was half the magazine left to get through.

            Lunch passed without sight or sound from Draco. Lucius knew his son was busy handling personal matters, so he covered for Draco to his wife. Then dinner came and Draco still hadn’t emerged. Obviously something had gone right, but his son shouldn’t still be spanking the monkey. Even with the right magazine, there were times when one must put it away, wash up, and have a nice meal with one’s parents. Ordering Dusty to bring something to eat in the bedroom wasn’t acceptable. Thus Lucius approached Draco’s room with caution, rapping on the door loudly to announce his presence.

            “Draco, are you alright in there? It’s dinner time,” Lucius called.

            Having finished poring over the magazine and given up on tossing one off, Draco had decided to take a nap. If he was asleep, his body would figure the orgasm thing out and then his ballocks would stop aching. The only problem with that was he wasn’t sleepy. His wrists and dick were sore, but he was wide awake. He tried grinding himself into the mattress like he did when he was asleep, but that was painful now that he’d wanked himself raw.

            “Um, just a minute!”

            Draco called frantically for his elf and ordered the creature to fetch his clothes. Once he was covered, he informed his father that it was safe to come in.

            Lucius cracked open the door and spoke, without looking inside the room. “I don’t mean to spoil your fun, but your mother and I are requesting your presence for supper. You can return to what you were doing after you eat. I would advise taking a shower first.”

            “I will Father; give me half an hour.” Draco stood up to move toward the loo, but his raw penis rubbed against the too harsh fabric of his robes, since in his haste, he hadn’t put his pants back on. “Ow,” he hissed.

            “Draco, are you alright?”

            “Yes Father, just a little sore.”

            “In that case, it’s best to put your magazines away for the night. Too much of a good thing, it seems.”

            “Yes Father.” Draco didn’t want to have this conversation.

            “Try a cold shower and I’ll see you at supper in half an hour,” Lucius called.

            Draco was left alone to shower. He cleaned himself up the best that he could, but he was still quite sore. He tried to act like he wasn’t, especially in front of his mother during supper, but judging by the look she gave him, she noticed. He normally loved steak, but his wrists hurt too much to cut it. Instead he’d stuck to his mashed potatoes, chopped veggies, and pudding. Luckily his mother didn’t say anything about it.

            Cissy excused herself to the restroom when she finished and Lucius took the opportunity to talk to his son. “Do you need help with your meat?” he asked.

            Draco nodded, unable to verbalize his predicament.

            “Definitely too much of a good thing. Moderation is the key, son,” Lucius said, before calling Dusty to cut the meat. Cissy didn’t approve of having an elf cut your food.

            By the time his mother returned, Draco was eating the neat chunks of meat, and Dusty had vanished from sight.

 

* * *

 

            The next day Draco tried again, staying inside all day and pulling at his cock while he perused the smut. The one gay magazine was looking much worse for wear, with crinkled pages. The rest had been put out of sight in the closet to sell.

            Lucius came home from work an hour early to check on his son, who was still holed up in his room. He knocked loudly before speaking. “Draco, I would like to talk to you. Perhaps you can shower and then spare me a few minutes before supper?”

            Draco agreed, jumping into the shower, while Dusty cleaned up the evidence of his activities. He dressed in his softest pants, but his cock was even tenderer than the day before and still hurt. There was nothing he could do about that and he was left with no choice but to let his father in.

            “Thank you Draco. I was wondering if you cared to share with me just which magazine it is that has you in this state?” Lucius asked.

            Draco blushed even redder than before, but opened his nightstand drawer. The gay magazine was clearly visible on top, the only one retained.

            Lucius took one look at the magazine and smiled, incredibly relieved it wasn’t the bondage one. He even preferred gay to shoe fetish. Shoe fetish was just weird. “This is great, Draco!” he exclaimed, taking his son into a hug.

            “It is?” Draco asked skeptically. Such enthusiasm wasn’t like his father at all.

            “Yes, it is. You can marry a nice pureblood bloke who will bear your children and your mother and I can still have grandchildren. That’s what’s important in life, Draco, children and grandchildren.”

            “You mean it? You’re not upset?”

            “Yes, I mean it. This is great news; you’re not some pervert who’d be hard to marry off, you just like men. I’ll have no problem finding you a husband. That is if you don’t find one for yourself first. Am I still not allowed to fix you up on dates, or might I arrange something with a nice young wizard and his parents? Let the Zabini boy have the witches, I’ll have you set up with all the wizards.”

            Draco sighed. He was happy his father was being accepting of this, but Lucius could be rather overbearing at times. “Maybe. I need time to process this first.”

            “Totally understandable. You know you can still come to me with anything. If it’s something I don’t know, I’ll find someone who does.”

            “Yes Father.”

            “I’m glad we have this thing figured out. Is it alright if I tell your mother? She’ll be glad to know.”

            Draco agreed, which meant that there was a whole _thing_ at supper, involving lots of hugs and kisses on his cheek from his mother. She was happy for him, his father was happy for him, and even the elves were encouraging. It was a bit overwhelming and he was eager to get back to his room, only his father followed after him. He clutched one of his school books to his chest, and sat down on his bed, hoping to show his intention to study. If he was studying, his father couldn’t fault him.

            “Draco, I wanted to talk to you about the amount of time you are spending in here. You are still on summer vacation: you shouldn’t spend all of your time inside. Why don’t you go to that event down at the castle tonight? The one for teenagers with the maze?”

            That was a new one coming from Lucius. Normally it was Draco’s mother who suggested the recreational activities. But just the thought of running around a maze of trees and bushes with the sores on his dick made Draco cringe.

            “Is there something wrong, son?” Lucius asked concerned.

            “No…fine, yes, but it’s not a big deal. I’m just a little sore.”

            “You over did it. Try not to do it more than three times in a row.”

            “Huh?” Draco was confused.

            “You know, when you are handling your business. It’s not a good idea. For the time being, you should stick to one or two.”

            Draco blushed so darkly red that he looked like a radish. He stammered and shook his head.

            “You have been doing it multiple times, son, haven’t you? That’s why it hurts,” Lucius continued.

            Draco shook his head in denial. He hadn’t even gotten once handled completely. What was worse was that he hadn’t had a wet dream last night, so his ballocks were aching. If he didn’t cum soon, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

            “No? Just once then?”

            The dam finally burst and Draco spilled his secret to his father. “No, I can’t do it alright! I’m weak and it hurts and I can’t make it happen right. I have this magazine and these pictures, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it! You explained sex to me, but I don’t think it works like that with men.”

            “I will find a specialist to help you through this, Draco. It doesn’t work the same, but we’ll get it figured out. In the meantime, I’ll get you a salve and you can take a cold shower,” Lucius said.

* * *

 

            Before a week had passed, Lucius had a young homosexual male tutor there for Draco. The tutor was cute, but Draco was apprehensive. He didn’t know what was expected of him and he wasn’t ready for a relationship with anybody. His father tended to be a match maker and he worried that this was a set up as a prelude to a date. There was a chance his father expected him to bed this tutor, so that he could be ahead of Blaise. He’d just barely found out he was gay; it was a big adjustment and he wasn’t ready for any more changes right now, including dates and especially sex. He was barely fourteen, for Salazar’s sake.

            With all of that on his mind, Draco was scarcely keeping his cool leading up to his scheduled appointment with his new tutor. Dusty opened the door and Lucius made introductions. Draco held it together that far, but then Dusty vanished and Lucius excused himself. Draco was left alone in his second bedroom with Mister Perfect Hair Tutor. Tyler’s dark hair was fascinating and Draco just couldn’t figure out how it stayed in those perfect little ringlets.

            “Draco, are you alright?” Tyler the tutor asked concerned. That was the wrong thing to ask and started Draco off hyperventilating. “Shit. Um, take deep breaths and try to calm down. I’ll go get your father.”

            “No!” Draco bit out in between shallow breaths. He didn’t want his father to find out about this. He’d endured enough of Lucius’ embarrassing concern to last a lifetime and he didn’t want Lucius to think he was weak.

            “Whatever you say, man. How about I just wait on the other side of the room, by this door here, while you calm down?” Tyler asked.

            Draco nodded and took a gulping breath, which was as close to calm as he could get.

            “You know that I’m not expecting you to do anything difficult or physical in any way, correct? I’ve brought diagrams and books in my satchel here.” Tyler indicated the bag slung over his shoulder. “The plan for today is nothing more than an introduction to our lesson plan.”

            “No touching?” Draco asked. By the way Tyler spoke he knew the wizard couldn’t be a pureblood. His father might hire a halfblood gay tutor if a pureblood couldn’t be found on such short notice, but he doubted whether Lucius would approve of a relationship with one. Thus he started to think he was overreacting.

            “No way, what kind of tutor do you think I am? I wouldn’t ever do that with a student. It’s not allowed and I have a boyfriend who’d be very cross.”

            That was the right thing to say and Draco started to calm down. “Are you reporting this to my father?” The tutor had been hired by his father and he feared that Tyler would turn into another of Lucius’ many spies. It wasn’t that he feared his father knowing every detail of his life, because Lucius was on his side, even if he was strict, but his father already knew so much about his personal life. It felt like Lucius was intruding on a topic he wasn’t comfortable with sharing. He couldn’t open up to Tyler if everything he said was being reported back to his father.

            “Um, no. He hired me, so he knows that I’m a gay tutor, if that’s what you’re worried about. He obviously knows that you’re gay too and seemed fine with it. He knows what’s on the syllabus and which books you’re reading. If there’s a serious problem that might affect your health, then I have to tell your parents. But, you know, with most gay kids their parents aren’t so comfortable with it, so I have a policy that I don’t tell the parents anything they don’t need to know. It’s up to you what you tell him. You’re lucky though, that your parents are so cool. Mine weren’t, which is why I need this job so badly.”

            It eased Draco’s mind to know that he’d have some level of confidentially with Tyler. It was a few minutes more, but he got control of his breathing and began to relax.

            Tyler pulled out a small board, which he enlarged into a life-sized diagram of the male body. There were boxes of text pointing out key features. It was full on anatomically correct, down there, and charmed to go through a loop of the stages of an erection. Tyler removed two books and a scroll of parchment. “This is a two week course. I’ll come for an hour and a half every day, five days a week for the next two weeks, but you are also expected to do homework. We have a fiction book that is more of a leisurely read, but still very important, along with a textbook with the technical details and related facts. This scroll has your syllabus on it and details what you are to read and when. Now this will be rather fast paced, so I must insist you keep up, even though you’re on vacation. You can take these books down to the shore. They’re yours to keep, although you should try not to ruin them, so that you’ll have them for a reference.”

            Draco nodded and they went over the syllabus. Up first on the agenda for today was to go over the parts of the male anatomy using both the life-sized diagram and a section in the textbook. Most of it was stuff he already knew, except for the bits on the prostate. Draco got the feeling that the prostate was somehow used in gay sex, but he didn’t see how it could be.

            The first lesson passed quickly and soon they were wrapping up, with Tyler explaining his homework assignment. “Now I’m going lite on you tonight, since it’s your first day, but tomorrow we are going to pick up the pace. You’ll start off by reading the rest of chapter one in the textbook on getting to know your body and read chapter one in the other book as well. It’s a cute piece of fiction about two gay boys and their first relationship. It demonstrates the intricacies of their relationship and how these boys work through them. It gets rather steamy in later chapters, which is why you’ll find the later chapters wiped out. I don’t want you getting too far into it until you’re ready. I’ll reverse the spell when the time comes. Any questions?”

            “Yes, um, how exactly does one perform gay sex?” Draco asked. Maybe if he knew, he could simulate it on himself and give himself a proper toss off. He’d had a few wet dreams in the last week, but his ballocks were in a constant achy state these days. He hadn’t tried to wank again, but the stimulation from watching the other boys playing in the river and lake was enough to keep him horny.

            “Are you going to attempt this tonight, or do you just want to know?” Tyler asked.

            “Well, um, no, I don’t have anyone to attempt it with.”

            “Is this about your wanking problem your dad mentioned?”

            “My father told you _that_?” Draco was mortified.

            “Yes, but only so that I can help you. There is something that I think will help, but you aren’t ready for it yet; you have a lot of chapters to read first.”

            “So you won’t tell me?”

            “Not today, but soon,” Tyler promised.

            And so Draco was left to enjoy the rest of his day in paradise. He wanted to get a start on his work right away, hoping to get ahead. If he read enough, Tyler might think he was ready tomorrow. Thus he lay out on a lawn chair on the patio and set about his reading. When his friends came along, he told them he was busy and to bugger off, because he didn’t want them to find out what he was reading. He’d known these boys since he was little, because the lot of them had their summer homes in the same village. They were all purebloods who went to Hogwarts, but Stephen Cornfoot was the only one in his year. Stephen was in Ravenclaw, so although they did hang out sometimes at school, it wasn’t as often as if Stephen had been in Slytherin.

            The first chapter of the textbook was just more of the introduction to the gay body. There was a bit on treating one’s partner’s body with love and respect and also on treating your own body with respect, which somehow translated into using protection. The chapter ended with a protection spell that would prevent unwanted male pregnancies and the transmission of sexually transmitted diseases. STDs were much more prevalent in the muggle world, but the few magical STDs, such as dragon herpes, were horrible.  
            Then Draco started reading the novel, really getting into the story about Jack and John. They were his age, inexperienced, and just as apprehensive about their first relationship as Draco was. But they were good friends, incredibly attracted to one another, and at the end John plucked up the courage to kiss Jack for the first time. The second chapter included a first date, hiding their relationship from their parents, because they didn’t know how their parents would react, and more kissing. The third chapter and on was blank.

            It was past noon, so Draco took a break to spend some time with his mother. After they ate, they went for a walk around the riverfront town, taking in the beauty. There were large magical iguanas sun bathing on the beaches and every once in a while one would belch out a small fireball. The fire was colorful and often had shapes swirling around inside, before vanishing in a puff of smoke. The animals had monitoring charms on them, to make sure they didn’t wander off into a neighboring muggle village.

            Draco’s friends from the area were down there discussing the possibility of hijacking an iguana and leaving it in a muggle inhabited area as a prank. Cissy told them to knock it off and she and Draco continued on, towards the castle. There was a wedding being held there today; there were often weddings, especially during the summer. They had hundreds of filled chairs set up in front of a beautiful arch, absolutely strewn with flowers. The groom and his men were there, wearing their fancy dress robes. The mother and son stopped to watch as the bride, in her splendid white gown, walked down the aisle.

            Draco always loved weddings. He’d planned on having a huge lavish wedding since he was a little boy. It would be just as magical as this one, only it would be in the garden at Malfoy Manor. The garden would be in bloom and he’d truck in even more flowers for his bride. Only he wouldn’t have a bride now.

            “Mother, do you think it will be the same with two men?” Draco asked, indicating the wedding still going on a short distance away.

            “Nearly dear. There will be two grooms, instead of a bride, but everything else will be the same. I am sure your wedding will be lovely, my dragon, I’ll make sure of it,” Cissy replied, squeezing Draco’s hand.

            Draco was satisfied with that answer. He could still have the lavish wedding he wanted, just substituting the bride with someone a little more attractive. His mother would help make everything perfect.

            After the walk, Draco went swimming with his friends, now that the magical iguana prank was out. Later they went to the rec center at the castle and played a game of darts with a field of Horklumps; whoever killed the most won. He came in third, which was not the type of thing to come home bragging about when your father was Lucius Malfoy.

            Draco had supper with his parents, during which his father wanted to know how class had gone. He told him it went well and after supper he retired to his room to read the second chapter of the gay textbook. It was on blowjobs, which was hot, but not something that could be done solo. He grudgingly pulled out one of his regular textbooks to read for a bit; History of Magic was good pre-bed material, even without Binns teaching it, and he often fell asleep while reading it.

            Tyler was pleasantly surprised by Draco’s progress and was able to skip ahead to the chapter on bottoming. There were cleaning spells, healing potions for the bum, and instructions on how to be careful with that sensitive area. Draco was taken aback at first when he realized Tyler thought he was a bottom, but then the tutor pointed out a section of text that fit Draco perfectly. “Oftentimes the bottom is the one with the smaller penis, but that doesn’t have to be the case. Some bottoms are well endowed, but prefer anal stimulation. Some of them even need it to achieve ejaculation.”

            Anal stimulation did sound hot and eventually Draco had to admit there was a possibility he was a bottom. It would explain why he had such trouble wanking and gave him hope that it wouldn’t always be so hard. If he could learn to perform anal fingering on himself, then maybe he could empty his ballocks while awake without rubbing himself raw. The only problem was what his father would think, because Lucius clearly expected Draco to be the top. What was it his father had said? That Draco’s husband would bear the children? Maybe being homosexual was alright with his father, but he highly doubted that the same would be true for being a bottom.

            During that day’s lesson, Draco learned how to perform the cleaning spell, vanishing all fecal matter from his anus safely, went over the importance of stretching, preparation, and lube, and even learned how to find the prostate. He was given a reading assignment which included a chapter on John fingering Jack for the first time and the rest of the chapter in the textbook. Tyler said it was okay to experiment with his arse on his own, as long as he promised to use lots of lube, which he did.

            That night, after all of his homework was done, Draco performed the feces vanishing spell, covered his fingers with plenty of lube, and slowly pushed one inside his bum. It burned and didn’t want to go in at first, but he bore down on it, just like the book said and it slipped inside. It didn’t feel like much once it was inside, so he took his time exploring, feeling around for his prostate. He had a vague idea where it would be from his textbook, but it still took him a while to find it.

            When Draco did find his prostate, it felt bloody amazing. It was like pleasurable whiz-bangs exploding in his groin. It was most assuredly the sensation from his dreams that was missing when he wanked. Clear fluid started leaking from his cock, without him even touching it. It felt exquisite as the pre-cum continued to flow. His cock throbbed, all the while he was stroking his prostate from the inside.

            There was quite the puddle of pre-cum dripping down Draco’s member before the fluid waned. He craved that sharp burst of pleasure one could only get from a proper orgasm and which he only knew from his dreams. He left his one hand in his bum, index finger pressed to his prostate, and took hold of his cock with the other. It only took one pull and then he was screaming in ecstasy. It felt so good that he couldn’t help the noise as white fluid poured from his body in a fast, violent explosion.

            When it was done, Draco collapsed back onto the bed finally satisfied, drifting off to sleep.

            The rest of the tutoring sessions were informative and useful. They helped Draco become more comfortable with his sexuality and learn the basics about being gay. He had hope for the future and was finally able to wank properly. He was considering letting his friends know he was gay. He wasn’t ready for that yet, but he thought that in a year or two he would be. He definitely wasn’t ready for a relationship and had a fear of letting someone know he was a bottom. His father didn’t even know that and although Lucius was okay with his homosexuality, his father still expected him to be the dominant, not the bottom. He was too ashamed and embarrassed to brooch that topic with his father, which was why he could never have a proper relationship with a boy; he didn’t want it getting back to Lucius.

            Lucius was so pleased with Draco’s progress that he suggested he might hire Tyler to come back for another session the following year, but that never happened. The Dark Lord was back the next year, Lucius was busy, and Draco’s grades had been worse, meaning that a regular tutor was more important. The year after Lucius was in Azkaban and the following year was the war. When Lucius got out, the war was already raging. There never was another summer in which he was free to spend so much quality time with his son. He still thought Draco was repressed and could use another course, this time on opening up and dating, but he figured it could wait until after the war. He had no idea things would turn out the way they did. He’d done everything he could to convince the Dark Lord not to use his son, even begging, but nothing had worked. He’d been powerless to stop it and he considered that his greatest failure.

            As for Dusty the house elf, he was a victim of the war. He put himself between Draco and Bellatrix during one of her rages and paid for it with his life. She wouldn’t have done permanent harm to Draco, but the impertinence of the elf enraged her further. Still, his sacrifice had saved Draco from the cruciatus curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! This is the last of Draco’s outtakes and I have already posted the first chapter of the sequel: the wedding! It took a while, but I’ve finally gotten a handle on the sequel; the key was figuring out what was going on with Lucius.   
> As of right now, this is the last chapter of this story. Please take the time to save it as one of your favorites and leave me a review, if you enjoyed it. I’d also love to hear from you over at the sequel! Thank you all for reading and especially to those of you who have already left reviews; this story would never have been great without you :D


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